by Thomas Craig
The trucks that came and went daily, and the generators used were all powered by Venezuela gasoline that only cost .10 to .20 cents a gallon, versus the $2.75 per gallon in Colombia. Gasoline was a corrupt business. Cartels and black-market sales in Colombia created a market for transporting illegal and cheap gasoline from Venezuela to Colombia.
The whole affair was extremely dangerous, as it entailed bribes to be paid to Military and Police checkpoints. If checkpoints weren’t dangerous enough for the drivers, carjackers would target the gasoline smugglers which led to frequent high-speed chases that ended in deadly crashes.
Like the gasoline smuggled in, the Venezuelan work crews were cheaper too. They were paid half the wage a Colombian would demand, but the pay would go 2-3 times further at home in Venezuela. Although the trip from Maracaibo, Venezuela was easily 200 miles and close to a 4-hour trip, the crews and material made the trip weekly, staying on-site for 6 days at a time.
The construction took place on the ancient barren stone slabs that lay atop many hills in the jungle valley. Millions of dollars were spent making thousands of stone replicas of the few original stones found in the area that were likely used for walls in the Lost City.
To this day, no one knows where 99.5% of the original ancient stones went. The few stones that were found came from a part of the rocky coastal terrain and dated back 1,200 years. The disappearance of the stones was as much a mystery as the Lost City itself.
It was well known and well documented in Santa Marta that the Tayrona tribe used the Colombian coastal boulders and rocks to build more than 200 rock formations along the Santa Marta Caribbean coast and in the jungle over the last 2,000 years. The ancient tribe’s lives revolved around the ocean, and they had several spiritual rock structures on the coast. Some of the more popular structures they paid homage to were ones of their forebearers; the gods of the sea, land, wind, and the sun.
For thousands of years, the tribes in this area had traveled, traded, farmed, and fished the area. Then the Spanish arrived around 1500 A.D. claiming the area for Spain.
That claim did not go over very well with the natives, and there were clashes. Eventually, the Spanish pushed the Tayrona tribes deeper and deeper into the jungle over the years, which likely helped the Tayrona avoid many of the diseases the Spanish brought with them.
While in the jungle, the Tayrona tribe took resident in the many stone and thatch structures they had built long before the Spanish arrived. Most of the structures were built for religious purposes, but were also used for shelter when hurricanes came through.
The stone used came from the coastline rock formations and there were never any signs, evidence, or documentation on how the massive stones and boulders were moved to these tricky jungle locations. These were engineering marvels on how they moved car-size boulders from the sandy shores, up through dry thorny underbrush, and then up the elevated thick jungle where they built their civilizations.
While sheltering deep in the jungle, some Tayrona could not stay away from their large spiritual rock formations on the coast and were caught or run off by the Spanish time and time again. Until one day the Tayrona did not run off. They stood their ground and fought back.
They killed several people before turning their attention on the Spanish priest and the Spanish churches. Many priests tried, unsuccessfully, to stop the Tayrona from burning down the churches, and many churches and priests perished that day.
Unfortunately, the Spanish retaliated by killing most of the Tayrona Chiefs and forcing the Tayrona to leave the area. This was sometime in the 1700s. It only took a decade or two for the jungle to reclaim the rock structures, gardens, huts, and walking paths the Tayrona had created over the last 1,000 years.
The Lost City in the jungle went unseen for over 250 years. When the Tayrona left, mysterious so did the thousands of rocks and boulders they had transported and carved to make their stone city in the jungle.
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Three years after college, at the ripe old age of 25, a maleficent entrepreneur named Tazario Zapata completed the build of his modest mansion that expanded across three of the Lost Cities major platforms less than 50 yards from each other.
The first platform, the lowest of the three, was where the pool and pool house sat, along with the 4-car garage. These two above-ground structures were made of the replicated stone, and almost completely covered in ivy from roof to ground.
The middle platform was where the secondary guest house stood, as well as the servant quarters, and backup generator room. The ivy theme continued up these massive stone structures, more so on the roof, but some on the exterior walls. Yellow trumpet flowers standing at attention as if ready to play were scattered on these walls, providing the only lavish color different from the green, gray, and brown of the surrounding foliage and stones.
The highest platform held the 10,000 square foot, two-story stone mansion. It, too, had an ivy-covered roof making the entire place virtually impossible to see from a plane or helicopter. The trees in this area were tall enough to create a nice canopy adding even more aerial camouflage to most of the La Ciudad Perdida platforms and mansion. However, the canopy did not hinder any of the spectacular views.
The hiking trails from Santa Marta still existed on the other side of the mountain opposite the private road. Occasionally a tourist group would take the 1-to-2-day round trip hike to the northwestern ruins, which rested no more than 100 yards from his ill claimed land and hidden mansion.
The tourist had no idea a high-ranking Cartel member lived in the opulent mansion hilltop in the ruins. Preventing most tourists from stumbling upon the mansion were both the experienced guides keeping them away and the fact that the mansion was so difficult to see unless you walked right up on it or drove the private road to it.
Recently, the trail was welcoming fewer and fewer groups of tourists who thought they were fit enough to go on a leisurely 1-to-2-day round trip hike in the jungle to see the Lost City.
To the overzealous hiker, the ascent to La Cuidad Perdida in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta left most people exhausted, covered with bug bites and sunburn, if they were lucky. The unlucky left on mule with broken ankles, dehydration, nasty cuts, or worse, snake bit. This trail was no joke and social media was now plastered with comments on how tough the hike could be to the inexperienced hiker and camper.
After a tough day trekking through the jungle, determined hikers would then have to climb the 1,200 moss-covered stone steps that transported them back to 800 AD. Depending on which well-traveled or obscure path one followed, it would take explorers to any number of platforms or structures over 80 acres in the mountains.
Not everyone appreciated the hike, but almost everyone appreciated the reward at the end of the hike. Those that made it to the Lost City, were rewarded by the spectacular views of the mountains and jungle valleys and became invigorated by the sense of history and spiritual aura that surrounded the ruins.
Tazario was from the small Colombian town called Salento, in the heart of the coffee country. Growing up working on a coffee plantation helped build his strong work ethic and determination to build a better life. As he became older, the opportunities to become something bigger and more important than a hired field hand were limited.
He decided to migrate from Salento to Armenia and then to Ibagué looking for something that had the potential for advancement. Before long he found himself running errands for a questionable businessman who traveled between Ibagué and Bogota.
After some time, an errand turned into a delivery, a delivery turned into a collection, a collection turned into sending a message, and he found himself in deep with the Ibagué Cartel. He never lost his focus though, and found himself working hard to develop connections and technical skills that could win him a valuable job off the streets.
He spent most of his limited free time reading about how to use computers. He saw how the cartel operated in the stone ages, and knew that they would have to eventually intro
duce some digital structure to their organization. He wanted to be a part of that change. He saved up enough to buy an old laptop, which he kept with him in a backpack so that he could practice whenever he had the chance.
Word got around in the ranks of the Ibagué Cartel that Tazario Zapata from Salento was learning how to use computers, and someone in the senior rank took more interest in him. Something unexpected happened to the little boy from Salento; the Cartel sent Tazario to the University of Atlantico in Barranquilla, Colombia.
It was not uncommon for the Cartels to put people through Universities. They did hire highly educated people to help their enterprises, but hiring outside brainpower was always risky, as loyalty only went as far as payment or threat would secure. Internal intellect, on the other hand, was far more appealing. Loyalty had already been proven and the cartel’s investment in their people generally paid dividends worth far more, and in more unique ways, than the cost of that investment.
Before being dropped off at the University of Atlantico, his boss and mentor, Miguel “Tiki” Contrera, showed him a series of stash houses that had duffle bags of cash in walls or bedrooms filled with stacks of money. Some of these rooms had between 2 and 10 million dollars, mostly in American currency.
“Tazario. We can’t continue this way,” Miguel said as he pointed to the last room of money.
The stash houses were in neighborhoods well known as Cartel territory and were heavily guarded. However, money sitting around in rooms was more of a problem than it was an accomplishment.
Police and military raids put stash houses or collection depots at risk. Other Cartels were a threat as well. Then there was all the corruption within the Cartel, like skimming, mitigated somewhat by the fact that, if caught, it was a certain grisly, painful death sentence for the individual and their family. There was also the risk of detained low-level runners and lieutenants sharing information with the Police or Military for freedom.
“Go to college and figure out what we do next,” Miguel told him.
The cash houses had to go. The money was coming in from plane, train, boat, automobile, by foot, mule, horse, drones, and even submarines.
Over the next few years, he studied Finance, Computer Science, and Chemistry, becoming even more of an asset to the Ibagué Cartel.
While he attended the University, Tazario took a fall trip up north and discovered La Cuidad Perdida in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. This was when he became particularly fond of the area and started making mental plans for his future well-hidden, and mysterious house close to a major port.
He frequently traveled to Miami, New York, Tijuana, and Laredo throughout his 3 years at the University. He spent a month at a time in each place, learning how the locals acquired and moved drugs. Mainly through observing others, he learned how to make deals and saw opportunities to better organized the Ibagué Cartel’s connections.
He was a quick learner and in his own right a visionary when it came to criminal activity. Using high-level Cartel contacts provided to him, he created a sophisticated pyramid of buyers and leveraged their network of sellers and dealers. His name began to carry weight in the Cartel and with others. He was like the CFO, CIO, and CTO rolled into one and earned his place at the table during sit-downs with the ‘Board’. The people running the Ibagué Cartel not only included him, but they sought his advice.
Tazario transformed the Ibagué Cartel’s cocaine business in Colombia by creating a complex global banking account system that laundered the Cartel’s dirty money through dummy corporations in multiple countries. He began investing in property across Central and South America, real estate leases in the United States, plane leases globally, and even island getaway rentals in the Caymans. The money was everywhere generating new money, but they still had cash piles all over Colombia. There were just fewer and better-hidden stashes.
His work and accomplishments had the Colombian government, Police, and several US agencies guessing about the Ibagué Cartel’s wealth and activity. Ever since Tazario started investing the Cartel’s income in businesses and property globally, money trails and cash depots began disappearing.
Not only were the Colombian government and Police recovering less cash, but agencies abroad were also recovering less product. This kid who grew up in the dirt streets of Salento and had a shack for a home had now globalized and digitalized the Ibagué Cartel’s liquidity, cleaning it in the process, organized complex trafficking through the darknet, and grew strategic relationships in eight countries in South, Central, and North America. Barely on the radar of a few agencies, Tazario “Taz” seemed to be one of the most sophisticated and significant Cartel members in the last 40 years.
Over time, his place of residence put him in a convenient position to deal with the Santa Marta Port authorities and crews of the Santiago. Tazario found himself overseeing the loading of cocaine shipments that at times had South American women stowed away in the massive shipping containers headed to North America.
The people in charge of the human trafficking were senseless and uneconomical, he thought. He watched them load women into containers, giving each one of them only a bucket with five bananas and a gallon of water in it. The bucket was their restroom, and the five bananas and gallon of water were to last the week. They would forget or didn’t care enough to give them enough food and water for the journey.
Taz infringed on the operations so many times, bringing the women jerky, apples and oranges, a drum of water, cups, a clock, and instructions on when to eat and drink. The cartel thugs running the girls would just look at him like he was crazy. After a few months of this, the cartel members would just park the van of women at the docks for Tazario to take and safely deposit the women in the shipping container.
Tazario hired his own help. His rank warranted having a cadre of 10 armed cartel members, whom he properly instructed on how to safely load the women and the cocaine. They also unloaded the return shipments of cash that occasionally had North American women being sent to Colombia. These return shipments with American women were less frequent but far more valuable. Rich businessmen traveling through Colombia would pay higher dollars for these non-Latino women. He hadn’t realized it, but he had taken over the very thing he used to loath.
As a year or two passed, Tazario still planned the safe passage for these women, but he was no saint. He had become quite comfortable with the sexual objectification of these women, and he somehow justified it or made peace with it in his mind. It was also very evident in his mansion.
He kept a few of these women on his property as his maids and companions. If at any point they looked or acted less than appreciative for their fortunate circumstances, he put them on the next ship to America with the others passing through.
Tazario had his crew keep an eye out for the women in their early twenties that fit his description of attractive. Not many fit his specifications, but when one did, she was pulled from the shipment and introduced to Tazario.
He tried the normal relationship with women from Santa Marta, but it never worked out. It never would because he did not see women as equals. Worse, he saw them as desirable objects.
In his mind, it would not work out because they would ask too many questions and he would become paranoid that they were talking about him to others. If they were educated enough to know how expensive his suites and watches were, then he thought they seemed to focus on his wealth. His thinking was not logical and his views on women were less than respectful with misogynistic inclinations.
His view on women had dramatically altered the last 7 years as he grew up in the cartel. Seeing how the gangs and the members used women, sold them, farmed them out to others, and discarded them as dispensable and instantly replaceable, had warped Tazario’s thoughts and views over time.
He started out ignoring it. He feared his honest reaction would get him killed. Over time, ignorance was no longer an option and he was expected to do things that directly compromised his views on the women. The criminal
mind worked in mysterious ways. He learned to compartmentalize the death and destruction revolving around the making, distributing, buying, selling, and use of cocaine, but could not agree with the treatment of the women the cartel used. But that changed as Tazario changed.
Even though Tazario was put through college to be a computer and finance expert for the Cartel, he had other interests. After seeing women being objectified, used, left for dead, or flat out killed for no reason for years in Cartel hostels, he wanted to learn more about human behavior and psychology while attending the University. Not to help women. No, he was a lost cause before he stepped onto the University grounds. He wanted his own clean, obedient, beautiful harem.
When he decided to take a few women from the cargo manifest, in his mind, he was conducting an act of decency, as he genuinely believed that he was giving these women a better life in his mansion. He didn’t see it as enslavement or forced prostitution. He arranged for them a monthly stipend for their maid services and ‘other’ services.
He had a set of small wall-lockers in the garage that each woman was given a key to. They were shown how to track their money in a private journal and leave it and their money in the locker, much like having their own safe deposit box. He encouraged them to save 80% of their earnings and use the rest as spending money when they went into town with him. If they ever decided to leave on his terms, they would have their savings to take. He also promised each one that they could go home after 12 months if they found the arrangements no longer suitable.
Special relationships with each of the women were formed in Tazario’s mind, and he put forth true effort to maintain the connections. Gifts were given to each of them frequently; necklaces, dresses, spa treatments at the mansion, and sometimes even in the city.
He made sure they ate better and worked less than they ever had. They even received cash bonuses for professionalism. He paid to have an etiquette trainer flown in to train the women in the art of social skills for public outings and private parties. The women were coached by professionals on how to engage and keep a conversation going when around businessmen. The women were even taught power poses to enhance their confidence around powerful people that came and went. They were trained well, and he ensured they delivered on the image he demanded in public and his home.
