of her.
El Jefe had no concerns over talking business in front of others. He knew that the fear he evoked silenced everybody. Luis, however, was more cautious and never discussed business within the earshot of others, or for that matter in a room he had not personally swept for listening devices. Cell phones had been consigned to emergency use only and never used to discuss trafficking plans. All supply and sales communications were done through encrypted emails, their codes changed daily. Luis was the brains behind his uncle’s brawn. Arrests and interception by authorities had reduced significantly under Luis’ stewardship and profits had increased dramatically.
The bride stood up and stumbled towards the door in her blood stained wedding dress.
“Her husband would have had a true virgin bride!” El Jefe laughed with his nephew.
Luis deplored the actions of his Neanderthal uncle but smiled. He was the power. Without him, Luis was nothing.
With the door closed behind her and with his uncle’s trousers fully fastened, Luis began. “Federales have taken up position outside of the Fox’s woman house!”
“I knew we couldn’t trust that bitch!” exclaimed El Jefe.
“We don’t think she knows they’re there,” explained Luis, taking some of the anger out of his uncle’s reaction.
El Jefe looked quizzically at his nephew, prompting a more detailed explanation.
“They’re taking precautions not to be seen by anybody including the Fox woman and nobody has made contact with her. We have her phones tapped and have her under constant surveillance. She’s clean. If anyone contacts her about Fat Jakes’s drugs, we’ll know!”
El Jefe kicked the base of his bed at the reference to Fat Jake. The bastard had lied through his teeth about every detail of his operation. It was the only time El Jefe had ever been duped by someone he had questioned. The sincerity of the fat man’s lies was astounding and had fooled everybody in the room. What El Jefe would have given to have not killed him that day. The pleasure and time he would take to kill him over again…only this time checking the detail before finally letting the fat bastard die.
Fat Jake had controlled the entire East coast distribution network. Taking his end would have tripled the cartel’s profits overnight. Luis had warned them to keep him alive but as soon as he had talked, El Jefe had killed him and soon afterwards, the bodyguard too. In fact, all links had been extinguished before the network was established. Not that Luis would ever remind his uncle of his warning. Their largest single customer was dead and their profits and turnover had slumped.
Nobody questioned El Jefe.
With every link gone, the only living link to Fat Jake was the wife of his bodyguard, Sean Fox. As unlikely as it was, Luis thought she could be useful. She had been approached and questioned. Her young son was held at knifepoint which pretty much ensured she told the truth. She knew nothing. However, a meeting had been held at their house in the past. Although she didn’t know the men, they knew her husband and her house. It was enough for El Jefe and Luis was tasked with finding the links and gaining control of Fat Jake’s network.
“So what the fuck do they want then?” asked El Jefe.
“I have no idea. I’ve tried all our contacts and none claim to know anything about any surveillance team.”
The cartel’s contacts were extensive and pretty much covered the city and State police and the local FBI and DEA offices. Whoever the Federales were, the local federal officers knew nothing about them.
El Jefe didn’t waste a beat. “I don’t like it, take her child from her! Make sure she doesn’t fuck this whole thing up more than you have already!”
Luis could have protested that El Jefe had been the one to fuck up but Luis felt no compunction to learn first hand why his uncle was infamously called El Carnicero.
Chapter 8
Laredo International Airport
Laredo, Tx. USA
Sean squinted as he exited the executive jet, the sun firing a warmth he hadn’t felt for years deep into his soul. A feeling of well-being began to sink in. He was home, back in the US where he belonged. He took one look at the azure blue sky and once again thought what the hell was he doing. The Texan beaches and her beauties were just a short hop away in the jet or worst case, just over a couple of hours in a car. Why did he really care whether some guy had stolen his identity? Big deal, he was dead. Sean was alive and he had the rest of his life to plan. He spotted the car rental sign in the terminal building. Decision made. Beach.
With a fantastic deal concluded on a Mustang convertible, Sean reached for his wallet. A small piece of paper fell out as he took the wallet from his rear pocket. He bent down and retrieved the paper, flicked it over and stared into the eyes of the young boy, in his school uniform, who had recently lost his father; the same young boy who, if somehow the DNA test were correct, was in some way related to Sean. The address was written across the base of the photo. Vincent Black’s handwriting with a large question mark placed at the end of the address. Black knew Sean far too well.
Sean made his way to the car park and noticed a long line of convertibles. They were obviously a popular choice, he thought, as he threw his small bag onto the passenger seat and let the electric mechanism open up to the sky and sunshine. He entered the address details into a small SAT NAV device and was rewarded with a detour of just three miles to visit the widow and her son. Sean pulled out of the covered garage and instantly realized just how stupid he had been. The SAT NAV had not been a complimentary extra but a pity offering. The sun blasted into the open-topped car with its full force and made it apparent exactly why the lot was full of them. Only an idiot would rent an open top car in Southern Texas at that time of year.
With the roof back in place, Sean pulled into the obviously middle class lakes area of Laredo. Well, at least Sean assumed it was the Lakes area, as it seemed every street name was either preceded or superseded by the word 'Lakes’. Eventually, he caught a glimpse of water. The SAT NAV told him he was at Lake Casa Blanca, the small checkered flag highlighting his target just a few hundred yards ahead. Sean noted, as he neared the lake, that the houses grew in size. His doppelganger had done well for himself. The flag on the screen corresponded to a large white house that backed directly onto the small lake. The columns to the front of the property were more reminiscent of a plantation house than an upmarket estate property but each to their own, thought Sean, as he began to slow down.
“What the fuck?!”
“What now?!” protested the older of the two lookouts, Miguel. He was fed up with his young colleague, Hector, and his outbursts. It was bad enough being holed up in the woman’s loft space without being stuck with some young fool who reacted to just about everything that went past the window. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered giving him the watch.
“That car!” Hector pointed to the road below. “The guy driving, I recognize him!”
“So you’re ten miles from home, of course you’ll recognize people!” replied Miguel dismissively, closing his eyes to emphasize he was resting.
“No, it’s the guy El Jefe cut up, the bodyguard, you know, the woman’s husband!!” He pointed towards the floor and the rooms below.
“That guy was in about a thousand bits, what the fuck are you talking about?!” Miguel got up from his seat and walked across to the window in an attempt to see whatever had excited his young colleague.
“Fuck, he’s slowing down, he’s coming here!” exclaimed Hector nervously.
Pushing his young and excitable colleague aside, Miguel looked down at the approaching car. The closeness of the car did not allow the angle for him to see the occupant but it certainly appeared the car was slowing down and about to enter the drive below.
“I had to carry the guy’s head, nobody knows better than me what he looked like and it’s him, I tell you!” explained the young man gesticulating wildly and sounding more deranged by the second. He crossed himself dramatically, praying to a god, who, if there were one, would have deserted him many years earlier.
