Against All Enemies

investments were earning solid returns and his companies were reporting increased profits for the quarter.

Why, then, was Rojas staring bitterly into his morning cup of coffee?

Because of so many things …because of the lie he’d been telling his son …because of the loss of his wife that pained him every day …because of this new threat to the business that he both loved and loathed …

What had happened to him? He hadn’t built his empire on tears but on sweat. He hadn’t crushed his opponents by weeping when they struck. He always struck back tenfold.

He had the money. He had the guns. But no, he wasn’t any better or different from them, from the scumbags who sold drugs on the playgrounds, from the gangsters who stole from their grandmothers to feed their addictions. He was already a corpse in a bulletproof suit, sitting in a mansion and feeling sorry for the loss of his soul. While he never shared his secrets with Alexsi, she saw his pain and often suggested he seek professional help. Rojas would have none of that. He needed to thrust out his chest and move on, as he always did, even after staring into his brother’s lifeless eyes.

He checked his smartphone once more. Nothing. Rojas had been trying to contact Mullah Rahmani, but the man had not returned his calls. Samad’s number had been disconnected. Castillo had told Rojas that the police cars in Calexico had been driven by Arabs and that a local kid had been hired to paint the cars. Rojas had already concluded that Samad and his entourage had murdered Pedro Romero and gained access to the tunnels. After ordering his men to destroy the tunnel, Castillo said, Romero’s family had been found dead in their home, all shot in the back of the head, execution-style. Corrales was still missing, although Fernando had believed that he’d gone to Zuniga’s ranch house. A gunfight there had left Zuniga dead. Spotters reported that a woman’s body had been brought out of the house. She may have been Corrales’s girlfriend, Maria, but none of the spotters had identified Corrales. Federal agents who may have been acting as spies had fled in a helicopter. The spotters could not get a good look at them. Rojas feared that Corrales had gone to the authorities, either Mexican or American. And worse, Fernando had reported that their best contact with the Federal Police, Inspector Alberto Gomez, had disappeared.

It was time to start closing out accounts, moving money, emptying drawers, and switching locks. He’d become an expert at concealing his ties to the cartel through legitimate businesses and fiercely loyal employees who had never once threatened to expose him. Everything was different now.

His phone rang, and the number caused him to jolt in his chair. “Hello?”

“Hello, Senor Rojas.” The man spoke in Spanish, but Rojas winced over the accent.

“Rahmani, why haven’t you returned my calls?”

“I’ve been traveling, and the cell-phone reception has not been good.”

“I don’t believe you. Where are you now?”

“Back home.”

“Now, before you say another word, you listen to me very carefully. Samad came to me in Bogota with some long sob story about a sick imam. He was looking for safe passage into the United States. He tried to bribe me with IEDs and pistols.”

“Which I understand you took.”

“Of course, but you know where I draw the line — we must not wake the sleeping dog.”

“Senor, please accept my apology. Samad is a rogue and I’ve lost communication with him. Honestly, I’m not sure if he’s in the United States or not. I specifically instructed him to stay away and never jeopardize our relationship, but he is a brash young man, and I will have to make him pay for his mistakes.”

“If he’s in America, then you and I are finished. I’ll not only stop importing and moving your product, I’ll make sure you can’t move any of it into my country ever again. I will cut you off at the knees. I warned Samad of this, and I tried to warn you earlier when I was in Bogota, but you never answered my calls. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I do, but not to worry. I’ll do what I can to eliminate any problems that Samad may pose to you or your business.”

Rojas’s tone turned more harsh, the words clearly a threat. “I look forward to hearing from you very soon.”

“You will. Oh, and one more item. We have a valuable intelligence asset that might be of interest, an American CIA agent who now works for us. I’ll be happy to provide any information he gathers that might affect our businesses. In the meantime, I implore you to keep the product flowing. Do not do anything rash. The dog, as you say, is still asleep, and we will keep him that way.”

“Find Samad. Then call me.” With that, Rojas thumbed off the phone and looked to the doorway, where Fernando Castillo was waiting.

“Good morning. J.C. has breakfast ready.”

“Thank you, Fernando. I didn’t realize you were the house butler, too.”

“No, sir. I actually came for something else — two things, in fact …” He took a deep breath and his gaze found the rug.

“What?”

“There was an explosion down in San Martin Texmelucan.”

“The pipeline?”

He nodded. “About fifty people killed. The Zetas ignored our warnings again, and they’re still at it.”

The Gulf Cartel’s gang of sicarios, Los Zetas, had been engaged in tapping into and stealing oil from Pemex, the state-owned and state-run petroleum company. The president of Mexico had come to Rojas for advice and assistance, and while Rojas denied having any direct contact with the cartel, he’d donated money to help bolster local law enforcement and Pemex security in the most vulnerable areas. Meanwhile, Rojas had Castillo contact the Zetas and warn them about further taps. In the current year alone they’d stolen more than nine thousand barrels, enough to fill more than forty tanker trucks. They sold the fuel through their own gas stations and trucking firms, which they’d already established to launder money, as well as selling it on the international black market. Much of that fuel ended up in the United States. Sometimes they mixed stolen fuel with legitimately purchased product to make extra profit. Castillo had often spoken about taking over the Zetas’ operation and enjoying some significant cash flow. While it was true that Rojas gave to the government with one hand and stole from it with the other, jeopardizing the financial stability of the country’s main oil supplier was shortsighted and reckless. Moreover, the operation was much too risky and sloppily run. The current explosion only underscored his reservations.

Rojas swore and glanced away in thought. “Call your friend. Tell him if the Zetas don’t stop their taps, then we’re coming to secure the pipeline on behalf of the government.”

“I will,” said Castillo.

“Now, what about the tunnel we lost?”

“We’ll fill in the hole from our side, deny any knowledge of it being in the warehouse, and set up one of the subcontractors to take the fall. I’m already searching for a new engineer and a new tunnel site, but we lost a lot of money there. I hope you understand that destroying it was the right thing to do.”

“Of course, Fernando. You’ve never let me down.”

Castillo grinned mildly, then walked over to Rojas’s desk and slipped a small digital voice recorder from behind one of the many framed photos there. “I received an alert about an unauthorized device in your office. This is the other reason why I’m here.”

“Miguel?”

Castillo nodded.

Rojas mulled over what to do, then blurted out, “Just erase it. And leave it there …”

With a hollow feeling in his stomach, Rojas left the office and padded in his robe toward the kitchen, where at least one thing brought happiness: the sweet aroma of huevos rancheros.

Sonia was staring through the bedroom window, out across the stones of the mansion’s driveway and toward the street below. Miguel came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “You smell good,” he said.

“So do you. Are we going to the waterfall today?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You promised. And I was thinking about that resort and spa you told me about — Mision del Sol. We could get massages, and I want to get a pedicure. Then we could stay overnight, do something really romantic. I think we need that.”