Nick nodded to himself and whispered, “I’m going to keep your promise, Ricky. No matter the cost.”
Garza sat in the backseat of the Humvee and waited for the entourage to meet them. Victor was next to him, checking out the desert horizon, his sunglasses gleaming against the setting sun.
“I don’t see them,” Victor said.
“They will be here,” Garza assured him. “I know Santiago well. He is simply making us wait as payment for our infidelity.”
“But we-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Garza said. “We take his shipment and bring it with us. It’s over.”
“What about Sadeem?”
“What about him?”
“Does he know we are bringing an additional package?”
“Chingow, Victor. I do not care what Sadeem thinks. We will make it work.”
In the distance, the desert floor was disrupted by the traction of tires beneath a convoy of trucks and SUVs. They both saw the cloud approaching at the same time. Garza looked at the time on his phone.
“Only ten minutes late,” Garza said. “He is being nice.”
Ten vehicles surrounded Garza’s Humvee and the large delivery truck he had parked behind them. Victor shifted in his seat.
“Relax,” Garza said. “He needs us more than we need him. This is merely a show of power for his men. He wants them to see he is in charge of the transaction.”
The cartel’s soldiers jumped from the vehicles with assault rifles pointed and knees bent. Garza took a breath and opened the door.
“Stay here until I signal you,” Garza said. “Do not take action.”
Victor nodded.
Garza met Santiago Valdez in a clearing of cacti and sagebrush. He greeted the stoic cartel leader with an affable smile. Valdez stared at Garza behind his sunglasses, while a dozen soldiers carefully watched every move.
“It is a pleasure to do business with you again,” Garza said.
“This is a highly important shipment,” Santiago said. “It will be moved tonight.”
An order, not a question.
“Yes,” Garza said. “It will go tonight.”
“What time tonight?”
Now the guy was pushing too much and Garza needed him to back off without losing face. It was a creative dance which Garza had managed to perfect along the way. He scratched his left shoulder with his right hand. The signal.
“Now, Santiago,” Garza said. “The timing of this move is going to be determined by the actions of the American Border Patrol. There is never a set time.”
Valdez was about to argue that point when a conspicuous thumping sound emerged from the south. The cartel leader turned along with his soldiers. Garza didn’t bother.
Three Federale helicopters moved in formation toward the circle of vehicles.
Valdez scowled at Garza. “Is this some sort of trick?”
“No trick,” Garza said. “They are simply our protection.” Garza tapped his head twice and the three choppers split up and moved to the perimeter of the convoy, hovering low to the ground. A sense of authority had transcended from Valdez to Garza. Even Mexico’s largest cartel didn’t have the type of muscle Garza was putting on display.
Valdez seemed ready to refute the assassin’s influence, but the helicopter’s blades growled like a guard dog waiting to pounce.
“Maybe you can show me the package,” Garza said with an easy tone, not wanting to provoke any unnecessary hostility.
Valdez stood motionless. Garza knew this was another way of showing his control of the situation, no matter how juvenile it appeared. Finally, Valdez raised his hand and a panel truck left the formation and maneuvered around in the desert until it backed up into the circle, next to Garza. Two men jumped out of the truck and opened the back doors.
Two pallets were loaded full of packages of cocaine wrapped with the Zutons trademark wolf face on the top of each package. Garza figured the load to be around half a ton of product. Not a large shipment, but still a couple of hundred packages which needed to be handled. He waved to Victor and immediately his crew of eight men exited the delivery truck and formed a single line to move the merchandise from Valdez’s truck to theirs.
As Garza supervised the transfer, he stood by Valdez with his hands behind his back.
“We will have this to the safe house in Tucson before dawn,” Garza said, casually, letting the cartel leader know it was time for the payment.
Once again Valdez stood still a moment before turning to one of his soldiers and holding out his hand. The man handed him a manila envelope wrapped with a rubber band. Valdez gave the envelope to Garza, who slid it down the front of his trousers. He didn’t dare insult the man by inspecting the weight or size of the package. He knew it was all there.
“One day,” Valdez said, looking around at the helicopters looming in the background, “you will have to tell me how you wield such influence.”
Garza smiled. “Yes,” he lied. “One day.”
Chapter 24
Fisk sat next to the American Ambassador, Dennis Blake, with a plate of mini burritos on his lap. They were in a large meeting room backstage from the auditorium where the presidential debate would take place in a couple of hours. Nearly three hundred journalists from around the world would be there to document the historic event, but the Secret Service would not allow anyone in the room until Fisk gave the word.
“President Salcido is insisting on an endorsement,” Blake told him. “He feels he deserves it, after all he’s done fighting the cartels.”
Fisk nodded while finishing off a burrito. “Yes, he’s done more than any president before him and he deserves our support.”
Blake sat with his eyebrows raised. “And?”
Fisk gave Blake a paternal smile. “We have to look at the big picture, Dennis. We don’t want to pigeonhole ourselves should Salcido lose the election.”
Blake shook his head in frustration, while Fisk chewed another burrito and held out the paper plate. A moment later, one of the twelve Secret Service agents assigned to protect him surreptitiously took the plate from Fisk’s hand and tossed it in a nearby trash can.
“He will not lose the election,” Blake said, firmly.
“So you say,” Fisk said, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “But the polls differ with you.”
“Is that why you requested a private meeting with Rodriguez?” Blake asked.
Fisk glanced at the buffet table to see what deserts they had on display. When he spotted a plate of sopapillas, he went to get one. Blake followed closely.
Fisk turned and squared up on the ambassador. “Look,” Fisk said, “I can’t discuss our entire foreign policy position in the few minutes we have before the meetings. If you would do me the great honor of introducing me to the two candidates, it would greatly enhance your importance to my trip here. Is that something you can do?”
Blake took a half-step back and almost bowed.
Fisk felt he was too strong on the man, just doing his job. “Hey, I’m sorry,” Fisk said. “It’s just I’m on a tight schedule and my stomach is growling. I can be real grumpy when I’m hungry.”
Blake’s face brightened, slightly. “Sure,” he said, gesturing to the buffet table. “Enjoy.”
The table was covered with a white linen tablecloth and two servers stood behind the buffet with their hands
