by James Samuel
James nodded. That made things more difficult. Drug lords had a habit of keeping a selection of private doctors on hand to perform surgery and other alterations to keep them one step ahead of the police.
“How long do you think it will take him to arrive?”
Jessi shrugged. “It could be a long time. It could be a short time. He doesn’t make appointments.” She paused. “What are you going to do?”
James stood and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He put it to his ear and waited for the tone.
“What’s wrong, Winchester?” Blake answered.
“I’m in the hacienda. They didn’t have any guards. Just Jessi and the aunt.”
“Then bring Montoya to the car. Why are you calling me?”
“That’s the problem. She doesn’t want to go back to her brother, she wants to stay here –”
“What the hell has gotten into you, Winchester?” Blake’s anger radiated down the phone. “I don’t give a damn if you have to take her by the neck. Get her out of there.”
James pressed his finger to the volume button with a frown. “That’s the thing. She told me Quezada comes here every so often and he only brings three men with him, including the driver. We could end this right here if we wait.”
Blake didn’t reply.
“Blake?”
“I heard you. It’s a risk. If he finds out you’re in the hacienda, he’ll throw everything he’s got at us.”
“But think of the possibilities. Taking her and then trying to find Quezada could take months. She told me that he doesn’t look like the file anymore. He’s had plastic surgery.”
“I see your point, Winchester. Let me call Wood and see what he has to say about this. This may need to be authorised.”
James rolled his eyes. “Authorised? When has anything ever had to be authorised during a contract?”
“Just stay where you are. I’ll drive the car down in a few hours. Make sure the gate is open.”
James ended the call and looked back at Jessi.
She reclined seductively on the bed, before finally looking into his eyes. “So, are you going to stay with me?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Little taquerias and shops selling indigenous souvenirs imported from a warehouse in Mexico City punctuated the heart of Yuriria. Blake stood at the hood of his car with his arms folded as Sinclair got off the bus.
Blake approached him with a wave of his hand. “Wood, things have taken a turn. Winchester found Montoya. No guards. Only the aunt keeping her there.”
Sinclair gave a relaxed shrug. “Where is she now?”
“Still in the hacienda by the lake.” Blake vibrated with rage. “That worthless bitch won’t go nowhere. Winchester thinks it’s a smart idea to keep her there and wait for Quezada to show.”
Sinclair’s eyebrows knitted together as he thought it over. “That’s interesting. Very interesting. So, let him. This is our chance to wipe him off the board, you might say.”
“You don’t understand.” Blake pushed his sunglasses tight against his face. “How will we destroy the cartel if we take Quezada out now? Winchester believes this contract is only about Quezada.”
“I see your point, but you made it more complicated than it had to be.”
Blake grimaced. “Winchester will declare the mission complete if he kills Quezada now.”
Sinclair nodded. “Then he needs to know the truth about what the client wants. He must know what’s about to happen or we’re going to lose him. You know what James is like.”
Blake agreed with a gruff hock from the back of his throat. He knew James only too well, and it would cost them if he found out the truth at the wrong time. The client wanted the entire Santa Maria cartel taken out. If they killed Quezada now, another leader would rise and consolidate. They needed to slay all the heads, which meant all of Quezada’s lieutenants first.
“So, those are the facts. Did you try explaining to him why it would be better to leave the hacienda?”
For a smart man, Blake couldn’t believe how Sinclair could ask such stupid questions.
“Ah, I understand,” said Sinclair. “It should come as no surprise. We don’t really have a leg to stand on. The greatest possible chance of success is to wait at the hacienda for Quezada. How long has he been there?”
“A couple of hours. I said I would join him later.”
“Then, we need to let this play out,” said Sinclair. “Reasoning with James wouldn’t work as he knows as well as we do what the best option is. All we can do is wait and see.”
“Wait and see?” Blake spat the words. “And what happens if Quezada dies?”
Sinclair took a deep breath. “Come up with a Plan B, Blake. You were sent here by Gallagher. It’s up to you to manage this. Not my problem.”
Blake bit his lips. “Then that’s what I’ll do. You keep in touch with Winchester. I need to make sure Quezada stays alive, for now.”
Chapter Forty
Aunt Camilia, a friendly, doddering old woman seemed content to continue about her business without a care for the gringo in her home. The first thing he noticed was the hacienda didn’t have a phone and the old woman didn’t own a cell phone. She still lived in the previous century and appeared happy to continue doing so.
Blake arrived to check out the hacienda and ensure they were stocked and supplied for weeks to come. He displayed a coldness that revealed exactly what he thought of the plan. James didn’t agree with it, either, but he wasn’t about to drag Jessi out.
James found himself a room next to Jessi’s. Like most of the rooms, it had little of any note, other than sagging bed and some furniture that had seen better days. It would have to make do.
“It’s a big gun,” said Jessi.
James lowered his Colt AR-15 that Blake had delivered, along with a few boxes of ammunition. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
He turned around in the armchair that he’d heaved upstairs. As part of the terms of remaining in the hacienda, James had banned Jessi from going downstairs. He had moved the entire living quarters to the second floor. The risk of Quezada ambushing them if he got wind of what had happened was too high.
“Do you know how to shoot?” asked James.
“Me? No, no, no.” Jessi backed away. “I never had anything to do with my brother’s business.”
James looked over the masses of ammo Blake had unloaded from his car. They had enough to kill hundreds of men if needed. A bright idea sprung into his mind as he turned back to Jessi.
“Maybe you can help me when Quezada comes.”
Jessi shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Those are my terms. If he brings more men than we think he’s going to bring, I’m going to need an extra gun.”
The colour drained from Jessi’s face. It became obvious she’d never seen a gun in the flesh before, much less fired one.
“It’s easier than you think. I’m not asking you to become a sniper overnight, but some help would keep us alive.”
“I wouldn’t even know which button to press.”
James gave her a warm smile. “Don’t worry about it. We can practice. We have the time, and there’s a big courtyard down there. When does Quezada normally arrive?”
Jessi shrugged. “Whenever he wants.”
“Good.” James stood. “Then we have more than enough time to give you some basic training. Don’t worry, if something happens, I’ll protect you.”
Jessi fluttered her eyelashes at him in agreement.
He doubted Jessi would be much use in an armed confrontation, but a distraction could serve him well. Quezada was no idiot. He might be a raging sociopath, but he wouldn’t go down easy. If Vargas could kill Diego, Quezada could kill him.
The thought chilled him as he resumed his seat and invited Jessi to join him. She would have to learn quickly.
Chapter Forty-One
Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Mexico
Puerto Vallarta rested on th
e western precipice of Central Mexico. A party town by nature, its share of expats and rich Mexicans mingled together on the Malecon. Although the State of Jalisco was contested territory between Montoya’s and Quezada’s cartels, the Sinaloa Cartel had prospered in most of the Pacific regions.
Fernando waited on the edge of the Malecon, near a statue of a great dolphin. He smoked a cigarette out of nerves. Today, he’d come alone. The restless sea did little to help him steady himself. Moving without Alex felt like losing his training wheels.
“Fernando Gomez,” said the man behind him in clear accented Spanish.
Fernando turned to find the gringo he’d been in contact with for the past week. He’d hesitated to meet him, but since his unofficial promotion to lieutenant after the Cancun assassination, he decided to take a chance. He didn’t need the permission of Alex, or even his boss Quezada, to act alone. It was all for the good of Santa Maria de Guadalupe.
“Blake Miller, from America.”
Fernando grasped his hand half-heartedly as he stared into his dark aviators.
“Did you come alone?” asked Blake.
“As we agreed.” Fernando threw his cigarette into the aqua blue waters. “What do you want?”
“Come, let’s walk. I think I have a business proposition for you. It could make you a very wealthy man.”
Fernando nodded and they strolled down the Malecon. Fat Mexican fathers eating tacos and the young and beautiful all mixed upon the renovated boardwalk. Puerto Vallarta had little in the way of a golden, sandy beach. Piers stretching out from the shore took up what little sand there was, forcing everyone to move in close as they fought for prime real estate.
“I want you to keep everything in confidence. You want to be rich and you want power, correct?”
Fernando found the question strange and responded with a basal grunt.
“Good. I picked you out for a reason. A rising star in your business, as I understand it. You are the next generation of leader.”
“Quezada is my leader, and he’s young.”
“Hmmm, but you know as well as anyone how this business works. It’s a blessing from God to wake up alive each day.”
“True.”
“What would you say if I said to you that you could one day be the leader.”
Fernando stopped as his pulse jumped. He’d always dreamed of becoming the leader of a cartel one day. He couldn’t deny that he’d always envied first Alex and then Quezada himself. The respect they got impressed him and he wanted it for himself.
He gulped. “I will not betray Quezada.”
Blake clapped his hands together. “My friend, this has nothing to do with betrayal. It’s only about putting yourself in position when the time comes. I want to know whether you want it.”
“I am.” Fernando paused. “I do.”
“Excellent. Your time is going to come sooner than you think. What you need to know is that Quezada’s time is running out.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’ll be dead soon enough. Some very powerful people want him dead. Soon, they’re going to do it and then your cartel will be left without a leader. Who will take over and keep everything running smoothly?”
Fernando took a deep breath. The idea that he could be the leader made him want it, but Quezada’s organisation had given him everything. Before he became a narco, he worked in a supermarket stacking shelves. Could he wish death upon the man who had dragged him up from the gutter?
“Think about it, Fernando. Just think about it. This is going to happen with or without you. For Quezada, it would be the best way to honour his memory.”
“What would you want me to do?”
Blake gestured at a nearby bench.
Fernando sat bolt upright, not trusting the gringo for a second. “Don’t ask me to do anything against him.”
“Of course not.” Blake eased back on the bench and crossed one leg over the other. “I understand you’re loyal to him. But tell me who you think would take over the cartel if he died? Who would be the competition?”
Fernando thought about it. He’d met every single one of Quezada’s top men, but he hadn’t thought about succession in any great detail.
“Vargas is dead. Quezada has no family he would trust to take his position. Parejo, well, Alex isn’t the man he once was,” he said.
“Parejo?”
Fernando nodded, his head drooping as he hated to admit it.
“And could the cartel break apart?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s possible. The deaths of leaders in the past have split cartels. But a strong leader would bring them together. You have the respect of your peers. They’ve seen you work up from the bottom. It could give you what you need to take control, and you’d have help.”
Fernando felt his heart threatening to burst forth from his chest. Everything he’d ever wanted was about to come to him. All he had to do was commit to making a stand.
Blake extended his hand. “Just give me the word and I’ll make sure you control Santa Maria de Guadalupe. All you have to do is be in the right place at the right time.”
As the oblivious tourists strolled along the Malecon, Fernando grasped the gringo’s hand. The pact had been sealed.
Chapter Forty-Two
Yuriria, Guanajuato, Mexico
The oblong courtyard of the hacienda contained little more than dust and broken stone. James set up some targets towards the unoccupied half of the hacienda.
The targets consisted of a few bottles stacked on some old palettes he’d found in storage. He needed to build her confidence if he had to use her during the upcoming battle. She had to be prepared to defend herself when Quezada came.
“Have you ever even seen someone fire a gun before?” asked James.
Jessi shook her head. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“It’s either that or we go straight back to Montoya. I need your help.”
Jessi shuffled her foot along the ground nervously.
“Now, take this gun. Feel what it’s like in your hand.” James extended his Glock 19 to her. “I didn’t load it.”
Jessi’s fingers shook as she grasped the cold, dark metal. She turned it over in her hands, as if entranced by the firearm.
“It’s heavier than I thought.”
“Don’t think of it that way,” said James. “Your weapon should be an extension of you. It should be part of your hand. That’s how you learn to handle one correctly. Don’t see it as a tool. Shooting is a matter of mindset.”
Jessi nodded.
James moved to her side. “Pretend as if you’re going to shoot those bottles. Show me how you would shoot someone who was coming at you.”
Jessi released an awkward smile, before pointing the gun in the direction of the targets. Like everyone who didn’t know how to fire a gun, she aimed like someone from the movies. The blast of the weapon alone would have knocked her off-balance.
“Your grip is wrong,” said James. “Let me help you.”
James took her free trembling hand and clamped it around the pistol in a double grip. She shivered at his touch.
“Now what?” she breathed.
“Bend your knees slightly. Make sure your dominant eye is the eye you’re using to aim at the target.”
“Now, can I fire?”
James nodded. “But you need something inside first.
He didn’t have time to run through the basics with her for more than a few minutes. Quezada could decide to pay them a visit any day now. He took the gun from Jessi and loaded it for her, showing her how each cartridge fitted into the underside of the grip.
“Now, I want you to do what I showed you before,” said James. “Remember what I told you about how you hold the gun and about how you should stand.”
Jessi repeated the stance James had shown her. Even though she still stood a little awkwardly, it would suffice for now.
“Fire one shot. Don’t put too much pressure on the t
rigger.”
She hesitated as she tried her best to line up her shot. The gun exploded. Her grip slipped and the bullet hit the building far above the target. James saw the bullet embedded in the hacienda’s walls.
James laughed. “The same thing I did when I fired a gun for the first time. You’re not gripping hard enough. Grip hard but not too hard. And squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it all the way back. Let the gun do the heavy lifting.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, let’s do it together. Get into your stance.”
James approached her from behind and placed his hand around her, his finger resting on her trigger finger.
Jessi’s arms wobbled. She let out a sigh as he pressed himself to her.
“Hold it steady,” James said into her ear. “Let me press your finger down. Don’t be afraid of the gun when it fires. It can’t hurt you whilst you’re holding it.”
Jessi bobbed her head.
“One, two, three.” He squeezed her finger down. The gun fired again. The bullet shattered the right bottle into a million pieces.
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I did it.”
“You did it. Now try again without me.”
James stood behind her at ease, watching her as she kept letting loose their surplus of bullets at his targets. Over time, she gradually whittled the bottles away. No longer did the power of the weapon scare her. He watched with satisfaction as it all came together.
“You’re doing well,” said James. “One day, it’ll become automatic and you won’t need to think anymore. You’ll see a target and you’ll know what to do in a split second.”
Jessi threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed as he wound his arms around her figure. Stunned but relieved, he tightened his grip on her.
“Everything will be alright,” he whispered.
Chapter Forty-Three
Miami, Florida, United States of America
