Laughlin cracked a grin. “Who’d have thought they’d file a real flight plan?”
“What agency are you boys with again?”
Laughlin pulled out a business card and pointed to the cell phone number. “If any of these nice Mexican business men return, call me. Immediately.”
The man spat into an old soup can and nodded, stuffing the card into his overalls. “You betcha.” He nodded toward the window. “I think your pilot is here.”
Laughlin shook the man’s hand then turned for the door. “We’ve got tracks to make.” He nudged Gregg. “Think you can prevent that thing from flying again any time soon?”
He pulled his pistol and held it in the air. “Easy peasy.”
“Negative, Speed Racer.” Laughlin pulled his gun down. “I mean so that they won’t notice.”
Gregg nodded. “Not as easy, but, yeah.”
“Make it not fly.” He clapped the man’s shoulder. “Just in case there are any others floating around the area. The fewer we have to face later, the better.”
Near Chapala Mexico
El Fantasma strolled onto the veranda of the opulent home and leaned on the railing. He stared out across the lavish gardens and focused on the grand fountain in the center. Water sprayed into the air and a rainbow effect made the manicured court appear almost like a fantasy.
“It is beautiful, no?”
Raul stood three paces behind him and nodded. “Si, Jefe. Magnifico.”
He sighed heavily and turned, leaning on the railing as he pulled a cigar from his inner coat pocket. “Then why do I feel like a caged animal?” He bit the end off of the cigar and spit it over the edge of the rail. As he lit the cigar, he spun it slowly, blowing rich, aromatic blue plumes.
“I do not understand, Jefe.”
He sighed and waved his cigar. “All of this, Raul. All of this was built by men larger than me. This was their dream.” He puffed the cigar and slowly turned back to the garden. “It is not mine. It never was.”
Raul stepped closer, unsure what to say. “Señior Murillo made it clear who his successor was, Jefe.” He slowly approached and stood by his side. “All of this is rightfully yours.”
He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “This was supposed to be for Teresa.” He sighed and leaned on the railing.
“What is wrong?” Raul asked, lowering his voice.
El Fantasma stood and squared his shoulders. “I need a successor.”
“Señior?”
“If things do not go as planned, somebody needs to be ready to pick up the pieces and keep the business going.” He puffed on the cigar and turned to stroll along the veranda. “Too many people rely on our business for their livelihoods.”
“Why do you say these things, Jefe?” Raul fell into step beside him. “Surely Jorge or Roberto can run things if you need a break.”
“I’m not talking about a vacation, Raul.” He paused near the outdoor bar and eyed the man carefully. “They are good enforcers and they follow orders better than any. But it’s not the same as making the hard decisions that this business demands.”
“You have many who could run things for you.” He spoke carefully. “But what do you fear?”
El Fantasma puffed the cigar and blew the smoke straight up into the bamboo ceiling. “I fear we may have poked a sleeping bear, Raul.” He sighed and leaned against the bar. “These people have gone about their lives as if nothing could touch them. I hoped that they had lost their edge over those years, but now?” He inhaled deeply and blew his breath out slowly. “Now, I fear that I may have misjudged them.”
“And you fear retribution?”
He nodded slowly. “Not just retribution.” He turned and studied the smaller man. “They will inflict much pain.”
Raul seemed to stiffen, squaring his shoulders. “I am no warrior, Jefe, you know this. But let them try. Our people will chop them up and feed them to the pigs.” He spat on the deck and cursed under his breath. “Teresa was loved by all of us.”
He nodded slowly, remembering her intoxicating laugh. “Si, she was.”
Raul placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You never gave up on her.”
He sniffed back a tear and turned from Raul, wiping at his eyes. “She held on for far too long.” He dropped the cigar and pushed it over the edge of the deck with his foot. “They told me that she could never…” His voice cracked as he spoke and he scoffed. “But as long as she still lived, I held hope.”
Raul appeared by his side again. “We all know how much you cared for her.” His voice was barely a whisper. “It was why Señior Murillo accepted you. He trusted you.”
El Fantasma nodded and turned back to him. “We must prepare. If Bravo team somehow found out where we are, we will need to be ready.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Contact the local militias. Hire them all. Even the warring factions. Wave enough money in their faces and they will put aside their differences.” He pointed to the tall stone walls across the courtyard. “I want an army waiting for them when they come.”
“You really think they will come? How would they know to come here?”
“I am certain of it, Raul.” He stood taller and squared his shoulders. “I know because it is what I would do.”
Southeastern Oklahoma
Miguel Herrera paced the small hotel room nervously. He continued to glance back at Ricardo Diaz as he cycled through the known phone numbers for Luis’ team. “Anything?”
“Nada.” Ricardo tossed the burner phone to the bed in frustration. “We have no idea where they had tracked them to?”
Miquel swept his arms wide. “Somewhere in these god forsaken mountains.”
Eduardo Nunez tossed his own phone to the bed. “They must be dead.”
Miquel fell into his chair. “We have orders to track down these gringos and bring el jefe back their heads.” His eyes bounced between the two other men. “We have no idea who
