He nodded in the affirmative.
“Trouble?” she asked.
He nodded again in the affirmative as he sipped his drink.
“And he needs your help?”
He set his drink down and smiled, “No, he needs our help, emphasizing the word our. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the fun.”
“And the pay?” she asked.
“Looks like this may be a public service kind of deal.”
“So, no pay?”
“I didn’t say that Rita, I just said…”
“I know, she replied, a public service kind of deal. That means no money.”
“Think of it as an investment in good Karma,” he laughingly quipped.
“Good Karma doesn’t pay the men or the bills,” she added.
“I know, but I think you will like this gig. It’s a chance to nail your friend Mendez.”
She stopped her beer bottle halfway to her lips, “Mendez,” she said, almost spitting out the name.
“Yep, this could be the one that takes him down once and for all,” Uncle Harold replied.
A very menacing smile crossed her face, “Why didn’t you say so earlier? I’ve wanted to nail that bastard for years.”
“I didn’t lead with that because I do so love our dances.”
She took a pull on her beer and looked at him with twinkling eyes, and said, “You just like toying with me, you dog.”
He laughed. “That’s true, but we haven’t had much fun lately, and I thought you would enjoy this one.”
“And why’s that?” she asked, still smiling.
“Because my plan includes Rosalita.”
Her eyes opened wide, “Really?” she said.
“Yes, really,” he replied.
“Then, count me in,” she said, excitedly hoisting her beer in salute. He responded in a like gesture with his drink and picked up the phone again. As he dialed a number, he said, “Time is wasting; I need to speak to Rodrigo and Muncho within the hour.”
Rita tossed the rest of her beer down, rose from the table, and said, “I will see to it, jefe, and as she turned to leave, said, “Oh, this is going to be so much fun—Rosalita. It has been too long,” she said gleefully while departing.
Later that evening, after meeting with his lieutenants and spending a couple of hours on the phone, Uncle Harold called Colt.
I answered on the second chirp of the SAT phone.
“Colt, I need some more info,” Uncle Harold said.
“Shoot, what do you need?”
“I need the route they take heading out of the city, the time of day they travel, and how many men we can expect in the lead and follow vehicles.”
“Got it, anything else?” I asked.
“Not right now, but we’ll talk again in the morning. You said you would be handling the police?”
“Right, I was waiting to hear from you before I made any contact.”
“Good, because for my plan to work, timing is critical, I mean really critical.”
“Got it, but remember when they show up, they need to be able to see the drugs in plain view. That will give them enough evidence for a probable cause search warrant for Mendez’s hacienda.”
“Oh, don’t worry; if my plan works, there will be plenty of coke visible.”
“Also, it would be good if the cartel guys were neutralized before the police arrived. I wouldn’t want any of the police to be put in harm’s way if we can help it.”
“I understand. We don’t plan on being anywhere around there when the “Policia” arrive, but you need to give me at least eight minutes, uninterrupted, for me to secure the area and make this work.”
“Roger that, eight minutes, I’ll take care of it.”
“Good, talk again in the morning.” The line went dead.
I turned to Dimitri and said, “Get Miguel over here; we need some more information.”
For an hour and a half, I grilled Miguel, ferreting out every piece of information Harold needed. Luckily, he could confirm the route and the timing, plus the fact that Mendez was a stickler for routine. His trucks always followed the same route and left at ten o’clock sharp to blend in with the daily morning traffic through the city. He also told us about a basement room under the wine storage building where Mendez kept his drugs. He confirmed that he always had a stash of cocaine he kept in reserve and told us where to find the hidden trap door. I queried how he knew so much about such covert activity and learned that not only Miguel but his father and all his brothers had been forced under Mendez’s thumb for years. Revenge would be sweet for so many people.
The call came from Uncle Harold the next morning as planned. I filled him in on the information he had requested and asked how it was going.
“It’s coming together, still a lot of details to work out, but we’ll make it happen. You and the police?”
“Excellent,” I said, “I’m going to contact my old friend Chief Gallegos when we hang up. I hope he has a trustworthy QRF (Quick Reaction Force) he can mobilize when necessary.”
“Here’s hoping; talk to you later this afternoon.”
“Roger that.”
I sat and gathered my thoughts for the next half-hour and then found a quiet spot in the village to make my call.
I was put through to the chief without hesitation, and he answered, “Dr. Burnett, so good to hear from you.”
Actually, the chief and I had become friends after one of our previous visits and encounters. He seemed like a good man and an honest police officer. I hoped my gut was right because I was about to put it all on the line and find out.
“Chief Gallegos, always a pleasure; how have you been?”
“Well, thank you, and yourself?”
“Not bad at all, thank you for asking,” I said with what must have been some obvious urgency in my tone of voice.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Burnett? I don’t think you called just to check on my well-being,” he said with a chuckle.
“Actually, no, you’re right. I am calling with a problem.”
“Please, go on; how may I help you?”
“Actually, I think I may be the one helping you,” I said.
“How so?” he replied, his voice taking on a more
