“Well, she probably won’t win anyway.”
“Don’t say that! You’re wrong! She is maybe the best bet I have ever made in my whole lifetime of analyzing and betting horses, sports, real estate, anything, and I was actually going to tell you we should go back to Mexico and bet more on her after her next race!”
“Oh, great fucking idea, we can become bigger targets than we are already. I’ll take out a bigger second mortgage tomorrow and really get down on her. By the way Dino, do you know a life insurance agent?”
The next day the two friends started to research Agua Caliente racetrack and the track’s owner, Jorge Hank Rhon They didn’t know where to start and were hampered by inability to speak or read Spanish. Dino figured a library was the best place to start. He told Miami he would meet him at the one in Beverly Hills at 3:00 p.m.
“What’s a library?” Miami responded.
“It’s a place where they keep books. Remember when you went to college?”
“Not really. Can we get a drink there?”
“I think we should look for magazine and newspaper articles on the racetrack and its owner. They should have them there on microfiche.”
“I know how to fish. You get an ice chest full of beer and….”
“Seriously, we need to find out who the hell we are dealing with. Who are these guys?”
At the library, the friends asked for help from an older librarian. She pointed toward a dark haired, younger woman wearing a print dress with a bow at the neckline and low white heels. Her nametag read Amalia Duran. She spoke to them in English but with an unmistakable Spanish accent. Amalia was perhaps 32, had olive skin, wore glasses, and was quite cute, in a reserved way. Dino took immediate interest in her and explained that they were considering doing business with the Agua Caliente racetrack and its owner, Jorge Rhon.
“Amalia, have you ever been to a racetrack?” asked Dino.
“No, but it sounds fun.”
“It’s a wonderful, beautiful, special place. We…I…will take you there. The racehorses are beautiful, and it’s a fun place for a date. I mean more like a lunch…if you are interested?”
“I would love to see the horses. Is it safe for them to race?”
“It’s only dangerous for the gamblers like Dino and me,” said Miami.
She tilted her head toward Dino. “You’re a gambler?”
“Sometimes. But I really go because it’s the most amazing sport in the entire world. It’s called ‘the sport of kings.’ You’ll see. The horses are beautiful, and the baby 2-year-old colts and fillies are making their first starts this time of year. You can feed them carrots when we go, Amalia.” Dino stared at Miami while biting his upper lip and discreetly giving him a two-handed, palms down sign with both hands to be quiet.
Miami smiled and asked, “Is there a bar here?” then walked away to leave the two of them alone.
The research became much more enjoyable for Dino over the coming weeks as he and Amalia dated. He took her to a play and a comedy club. She was quiet but liked to laugh when Dino told her something funny.
Amalia helped Dino and Miami investigate information on Agua Caliente and the track’s owner. Dino got Amalia to go to the Los Angeles library’s downtown branch that had more microfiche and access to the Tijuana papers and magazines. She was bilingual and learned that Rhon’s father, the former mayor of Mexico City, had become one of the richest men in Mexico and had been quoted as saying, “A politician who is poor, is a poor politician.” In 1984, the father gifted his son, Jorge Hank Rhon, the Agua Caliente horse and dog racetrack. Later, Amalia found articles in the library on the younger Rhon that portrayed him as a saint, but also linked him to drug dealing and massive political corruption.
Jorge Rhon was the same age as Miami and Dino—31. He was a colorful character who often sported a red crocodile skin vest, and owned Mexico’s Grupo Caliente, which included a chain of off-track horse betting locations, a dog racing track, a hotel, a huge shopping mall in Tijuana, and his Agua Caliente racetrack. Grupo Caliente had for some time been trying to get sports betting on Mexican events, as well as US events, legalized in Mexico, but had so far been unsuccessful. Rhon ran the Miss Mexico beauty pageant and had just hosted the World Boxing title fight between Julio César Chávez and Danilo Cabrera. His house looked down on the Mexican track and was known as one of the largest mansions in Tijuana. The house had a private zoo with a collection of 20,000 wild animals, including monkeys, bears, camels, elephants, big cats, pygmy hippos, and a variety of birds, snakes, and wolves.
“This is all good. He’s rich!” Miami shouted.
“Apparently, personally owning wild and dangerous animals is common among wealthy cartel leaders,” Amalia said as she showed the gamblers an article to confirm the information.
The big cats always fascinated Rhon and he drove around with a baby white tiger in his Mercedes until he was caught by the US Border Patrol and fined $25,000. His personal cheetah once escaped and was hit by a pick-up truck near the track. Stories surfaced that for weeks he didn’t feed his Bengal tigers. Then he released other live animals into the cat’s cages for entertainment, and he and his friends watched the tigers devour horses, burros, and goats, in a violent blood bath.
“This guy is a cartel guy!” said Dino.
Amalia went on translating the research and telling them Rhon was nicknamed, “Tigre Blanco,” or, in English, “White Tiger.” He loved to throw wild parties featuring bullfights and cockfights on his massive estate. Gambling and drinking were the order of the day.
Almost weekly, scandalous articles about Rhon and Agua Caliente were written in the extremely popular local Tijuana newspaper, Zeta. The famous (and prolific) reporter, Hector Felix Miranda, known by his pen name, El Gato, penned a column
