word: I’ve been doing this a long time, and I have a real good feel as to what’s necessary information to release and what’s not. I’ll make sure you have what we need to find Task Officer Hernandez.”
Dixon, Mann, Gordon, and Brix shared looks. None of them had anything to say, so Turino opened his file and splayed it open.
Dixon’s phone buzzed. Text from Vail. They were ready. “Hold up,” Dixon said. “We’ve got Karen Vail and Hector DeSantos joining us by teleconference. Any of you know how to work that RoundTable thing we used the other day?”
“I got it,” Mann said. He settled himself in front of the laptop that sat in the middle of the conference table, made sure they were logged into Live Messenger, then started the RoundTable device. “Are you there? Karen?”
Vail—and a male figure—appeared on the laptop and on the projection screen. On Vail’s computer, she would see each of their likenesses strung along the bottom, with the person whose voice was loudest taking the top position as an enlarged image.
“Hi everyone. Long time no see. This cool-looking dude to my right is Hector DeSantos.”
A sad-sounding chorus of grunts and greetings issued forth from the various task force members.
“Special Agent Guy Turino’s joined us. DEA.” Dixon knew that if she introduced him as Guido, Vail would likely have some smart comment—and Dixon already regretted subjecting Turino to that once.
“You logged on at a good time.” Turino turned away from the screen and said, “All right. Picking up where I left off. This is a DEA operation, so DEA runs the show. We appreciate the cooperation of your respective agencies and we’ll do our best to make sure everyone’s kept in the loop. You’re now officially federal TFOs—task force officers. As federal agents, you’ll be able to carry your sidearms across state lines and we’ll have jurisdiction to conduct our business.”
Turino looked at the RoundTable camera telescoping up from the table surface and said, “Obviously, Vail and DeSantos, you don’t have to worry about that.” He reached into his file folder and spoke as he dug through some papers. “Because of Superior Mobile Bottling and Cesar Guevara’s involvement, this area’s been an important focal point for us—and might continue to be so.”
Brix had a can of Coke Zero in front of him. He twirled it slowly as he spoke. “Since we’re all being honest with one another, I’d like to throw something out on the table. With DEA San Diego coordinating Sebastian’s and Hernandez’s op, isn’t it safe to say they wanted to be sure we’re all on the same page, that they don’t want us poking around without their knowledge? Seems to me, Guy, the easiest way to make sure they know what we’re doing is by bringing us under your thumb. We’re happy because we’re part of the team, but in reality, you’re just keeping us busy.”
Turino scraped an open hand across his stubble. “I’m going to respect your intelligence, Redd. So the answer would be yes. And no. ‘No’ because I got better things to do with my time than be a baby-sitter. So yeah, they don’t want you poking your dicks in places that could fuck things up. But this’ll be an active, working task force. And because I’m in charge of it, you can bet your last dollar we’re gonna be at the epicenter of anything that goes down. That good enough for you?”
“Absolutely,” Dixon said with a glance at Brix.
Turino found the document he was looking for and set it in front of him. “Now then. I haven’t had a whole lot of time to put stuff together for this task force, but its goals and objectives are pretty damn clear. First off, it’s my job to get you up to speed on a few things you’ll need to know about the drug trade and how these cartels operate. One or two of you may know some of this stuff, but you won’t know all of it, so I’m going to go through it because I think the answer of where we focus our efforts is right here.”
He glanced down at what was apparently his outline. “So. Illicit Drug Trade 101. Running the show these days are Mexican drug trafficking organizations. You’ve heard ’em called cartels. We also call ’em DTOs. Bottom line is, no matter what we call ’em, they
“To put this in perspective, in the past three years, Mexico’s had over 18,000 drug-related murders. And the violence has started spilling onto U.S. soil. So let’s go through how these DTOs get their drugs into our country. California ports of entry are the cartels’ equivalent to an interstate highway that runs from Mexico into the U.S. The Arizona and Texas borders are just about as problematic. In California, Mexican cartels typically enter at or between the six land ports of entry along the U.S.-Mexican border: Andrade, Calexico East, Calexico West, Otay Mesa, San Ysidro, and Tecate.” He pointed at the map, beginning west at San Ysidro and moving east toward Calexico.
“You got the obvious, stuff you’ve probably been briefed on at some point: trucks and cars bringing the shit in, hidden away in secret compartments. These cartels are extremely motivated and very wealthy, so they find all sorts of ways to get their stuff across the border. Spend a day at any port of entry along the border with Customs and Border Protection officers, and you’ll see what I mean. Underneath the carriage, inside the dashboard, in the engine compartment, embedded in the seats, the tires. Name any part of a vehicle, we’ve probably seen it rebuilt or hollowed out and filled with drugs.
“Then you got drug mules, which you might’ve heard about. The cartels pay these people to carry drugs inside their bodies, in sausage link type packaging they swallow and then crap out when they get across. That is, if it doesn’t burst and kill ’em before they reach their target. Or they carry the shit strapped to their bodies, in huge backpacks, across the desert or through the mountains. Real rough terrain. A lot of ’em don’t make it. A lot of ’em do. May I?” He pointed at the large map hanging on the wall near the window.
“Go for it,” Dixon said.
“You got a U.S. map?”
“Flip it. Third one down.”
Turino did as instructed and found the chart he needed. He pulled a pen from his pocket and slapped the point against the map. “A majority of the illicit drugs coming into the U.S. are now crossing over the Arizona border. Right here.” He indicated an area south of Tucson. “Problem is most of this border is wide open. No rivers or other natural barriers. Checkpoints only in the larger cities or along the major highways in and out. Actually, a lot of the border only has chicken-wire fencing, if that. Maybe sensors. But that’s it. The border’s more heavily regulated in bigger towns, so the mules take the routes of least resistance. Makes sense.” He glanced up. “Any questions?”
“Yeah,” Brix said. “How much are we talking about? I mean, so you got some poor guy you’re paying to ferry drugs across the desert or on a plane. How much is he really gonna be able to carry, inside or outside his body?”
“Limited only by their imagination. Backpacks if they’re coming across land. If they’re coming on foot through a port of entry, or even on a plane, they’ll stuff it in their underwear, their bras, or strap it to their bodies. They wear oversize clothing or baggy jeans to conceal it. Typically, a mule can hold up to 800, 900 grams, and maybe even a little more. They pack the coke into wax-coated condoms that the mule then swallows. Sometimes they use large capsules—10 to 20 grams per capsule, depending on the person. They practice swallowing large grapes whole until they can get 50 to 70 of them into their bodies. They ingest them prior to boarding the plane or crossing the border, then crap ’em out at the other end. But the measures we’ve got in place at airports—scanners, dogs, X- rays—nab a lot of ’em. Like I said, though, the capsules or condoms sometimes open and these people have gotta be rushed to a hospital for emergency surgery. A lot of ’em OD and die.”
Dixon asked, “How much do they get paid for that?”
“Not a whole lot. Two to three grand, maybe even less.”
“And what does it net the cartel?” Gordon asked.
Turino bobbed his head. “Twenty to twenty-five grand. Per kilo.”
Vail piped in through the speaker. “How much can they carry outside their bodies?”
“That’s a much bigger issue, from a law enforcement point of view. The land-based border. You might not believe it, but like the rest of us, they also ship their products in FedEx and UPS packages. Then you’ve also got trucks, tractor trailers, and containers. Not to mention maritime—boats, fishing trollers—”
“They’re also using submarines,” DeSantos said.
Turino pointed at the RoundTable screen. “Yes. That’s a fairly recent thing. Semi-submersible vessels. But a far more dangerous threat, because of the volume they can move, is subterranean tunnels. It’s a trick they
