The Hidden Light of Mexico City

by Carmen Amato

  “So what did Luz say to Elsa Caso last night?” Tomás asked.

  Edo shrugged. “She wouldn’t tell me.” He managed a grin. “But whatever it was, it must have been excellent. Elsa left the stage as soon as the director yelled ‘Cut.’ I didn’t see her again.”

  “I think Ana’s really going to like Luz,” Tomás said.

  “Fuck!” Vasco exclaimed. Eddo and Tomás both spun around.

  Vasco swiveled the laptop. 1612colcol was no longer listed as the latest posting.

  44Gg449M11: Site 4 in 10 days.

  “It’s got to be Gomez Mazzo himself,” Vasco said, sounding stunned.

  “Ten days,” Tomás gulped. “He’s far.”

  Eddo stared at the screen, silently willing it to be wrong. Ten days was too far away, too close to the end of this damned countdown with Luz.

  “Shit,” Vasco said. “We’ve got to cast a wider net.” All of his customary humor was gone. He tapped the keyboard, swearing softly as his fingers flew.

  “We don’t have enough people,” Tomás said and pulled out his cell phone.

  Eddo went to the large map of the Caribbean taped up next to the profiles. It hid some weird abstract artwork, the kind that had made he and Luz cringe at Jardin del Arte. Tomás joined him, still texting furiously, as Eddo traced a finger from Panama down the coast of South America. “He could be as far west as the coast of Colombia,” Eddo said. “Or all the way over to the little islands east of Puerto Rico. Madre de Dios. Maybe we were all wrong pegging him to Panama.”

  “Got about 20 more places the Sheba could dock,” Vasco said, staring at the laptop screen. He clicked the mouse and his tongue at the same time. “Make that 22.”

  “Antigua and Barbuda,” Eddo said, the map unlocking a detail from his trip to Panama he’d all but forgotten. “Does it have a marina big enough for the Sheba?”

  “Gimme a minute,” Vasco said. Keys clicked.

  “Montopa had some connection to a bank there,” Eddo said.

  “Falmouth Harbor Marina,” Vasco said.

  “I’ll go there,” Eddo said.

  Chapter 71

  Gomez Mazzo drank some rum cooler as he looked at the postings page and the call by Hugo de la Madrid Acosta’s bag man for a meeting. Across the cabin, his three grandchildren played a board game on the carpet with Bridget, their Swedish nanny. His daughter and third wife were on deck. In a minute his wife would come into the walnut-paneled cabin and tell him their guests were waiting for him to join them.

  He didn’t like that 1612colcol had presumed to call a meeting at Site 4; that was El Toro’s prerequisite. But the wording of the posting made it hard to ignore: “New developments.”

  Had 1612colcol found out about the deal with Cortez?

  “Look, Abuelo!” Five-year-old Norberto held up a game piece. “I won!”

  Gomez Mazzo jerked his chin at Bridget. “Take the children on deck and let my wife introduce them.”

  Bridget wasn’t the best looking Swedish woman he’d ever seen but she wasn’t bad and he’d sleep with her eventually. Her face tightened at his order, however, and he knew she didn’t like spending a lot of time on deck. The Colombians always gawked as if they’d never seen a woman with yellow hair before.

  She and the children dutifully cleaned up the game and left the main cabin. Gomez Mazzo went to the built-in walnut desk to spread out a nautical chart. The call for a meeting was an opportunity to get rid of loose ends, he reflected. He would clear away the last vestiges of his arrangement with Hugo and get ready for a new partnership with Cortez. Hugo had become a nagging wild card and this bag man was clearly a problem who could get in the way of the deal with Cortez.

  Chino was in Anahuac now but could come back on board and handle both of them.

  But the woman and children would have to be deposited somewhere first. Gomez Mazzo ran his finger over the route and decided on Aruba. Good shopping and discreet hotels. He’d stay a few days to make sure they were settled.

  The business in Cartagena was nearly done. It was going very well, with the Colombians impressed by the boat and the fabled El Toro in person. The Colombian group would supply his operation with methamphetamines to feed the ever-hungry market in El Norte. The deal was a shrewd one. To begin with, it made sure the group didn’t align with the Zetas or try to create their own smuggling route across the US-Mexican border. El Toro didn’t have to go to the expense or risk of creating meth labs while the volume the Colombians were willing to provide would undercut any other Mexican cartel’s expansion into meth.

  Yes, the Colombians were another opportunity he’d grabbed with both hands.

  The operation would be in place by the time of the Mexican presidential election. After Romero won, Gomez Mazzo would have Cortez squeeze the Zetas and get a few trusted El Toro men out of jail. The El Toro cartel would still eventually control northern Mexico and the meth business would skyrocket.

  He’d been surprised but pleased when Cortez used the army to take out Site 1. It meant that Cortez had significant influence over military operations. Hugo had promised that Lorena could do that but had never put on a demonstration the way Cortez had.

  Gomez Mazzo calculated the trip to Site 4, went back to the laptop, and created a new posting. When he logged off he went on deck and drank a toast to his new partners.

  Chapter 72

  “You could still change your mind,” Carmelita said.

  “I’m not going to that wedding,” Luz said. “Could you really see me with those people?” Women like Señora Vega in gowns and all of them sneering at her.

  “If you marry him you’ll face them someday.” Carmelita adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse as they walked.

  “I’m not marrying him, Carmelita,” Luz reminded her friend. It was getting a little easier to say but it never hurt any less.

  The days had flown by in a blur of text messages and phone calls with Eddo, helping Juan Pablo prepare for his final exams, and fretting over Lupe’s relationship with Tío. Before Luz had realized it, her phone countdown read 11 days to MEET EDDO and Juan Pablo’s graduation was just around the corner.

  “So what’s the dress for?” Carmelita asked.

  “He has to go to a despedida the same weekend we’re meeting in Mexico City and I said I’d go with him.” Luz got a fluttery feeling in her stomach just thinking about it, but a despedida was just a farewell party, hardly as fancy as a wedding.

  “I thought he was in Oaxaca.”

  “The Romero campaign is moving to Mexico City,” Luz said, adjusting her stride to step over a hole in the rutted sidewalk. “He’ll be living there by the time we get together.”

  They were headed for the used clothing mercado a few blocks away. Except for Eddo’s buying spree at Liverpool, Luz had always bought her clothes there.

  She slowed as they came to Senora Velasquez’s abarrotes shop. “Let’s get a snack first.”

  Two officers from the ever-present security service were with them. At first it had felt awkward and embarrassing but Luz was grateful for the rotation of security officers and their dark SUVs in front of the house and the safety they represented. What had happened to her in that scratched sedan wouldn’t happen again. The security people were both male and female, which was surprising, and wore black polo shirts and jeans. All of them had badges and were scrupulously polite, never asking why they had to work in such a shabby neighborhood. Carmelita was very impressed.

  One of the security officers went into the store and Luz saw him look around before motioning that she and Carmelita could go in.

  Señora Velasquez was behind the counter, as usual, her eyes bright with curiosity. Luz knew the neighborhood was buzzing over the security presence but Eddo had advised her to say as little as possible and she was doing just that.

  Two of the vendors from the clothing mercado were in the store. Rubia Durango, a few years older than Luz and Carmelita, was nicknamed for her dyed blonde hair. She was a chatterbox but
she had the best children’s clothes and Carmelita and Lupe both frequented her stall. Chula Mendez was a leathery old woman who mostly sold underwear.

  “Luz de Maria,” Rubia whooped. She indicated the security officer standing by the doorway ignoring the bags of peanuts and cans of soda for sale. “Nobody sees you for so long and now it’s like you’re the queen of England.”

  “Just her maid, Rubia,” Luz said, making the others laugh. The women in the shop wore polyester dresses that had probably come from the mercado. Carmelita had on jeans and a knit top but nothing close to the quality of the designer jeans and shirt from Liverpool that Luz wore with hair pulled back with a sleek clip from the same store.

  “Who talked to Elsa Caso, no less,” Chula said archly, eyeing the pink DKNY purse. “That was really you on the phone talking to Elsa Caso?”

  Luz smiled thinly. “Yes, I talked to her.”

  “What did you say?” Rubia bubbled with curiosity. “The show ended and she never said.”

  Luz shrugged, knowing that Carmelita was trying not to giggle. “I just said Señor Cortez wasn’t available for her auction.”

  “Huh,” Rubia snorted. “She wanted to buy him, I guess.”

  Chula wiped at her nose with a thumb and forefinger, then brushed her hand against her skirt. “You think you can compete against Elsa Caso, Luz? That’s getting above yourself.”

  Señora Velasquez leaned over the counter. “Lupe says that man calls you all the time. I guess you don’t need no messages no more.”

  Luz felt her face redden as she looked at the narrow shelves crammed with sweets and snacks, wishing Lupe had kept her mouth shut. “No, I have a new cell phone.”

  “How’d you meet someone like that, Luz de Maria?” Rubia wasn’t satisfied. She settled against the counter and winked at Señora Velasquez.

  “At a museum,” Luz said.

  “Really?” Rubia said. “That’s not what Lupe said.”

  Chula chimed in. “She said you worked for him.” She raked her eyes over Luz’s outfit. “Guess you had to dress up to work there.”

  “No,” Luz said, taken aback. “We met at the Tamayo Museum in Mexico City.”

  Chula sniffed, a wealth of disbelief in the sound.

  “He’s real handsome,” Rubia said. “You don’t see the likes of him around here.”

  “Your mother,” Señora Velasquez sighed. “I don’t know what she would make of all this, Luz de Maria. He’s not your kind.”

  Luz fished around in the barrel of ice for sports drinks, hating being the object of gossip, hating Lupe’s wagging tongue. Hated the reminder of that last conversation with her mother.

  Carmelita gathered up some bags of chips.

  Luz paid for the drinks and the chips without saying anything else. Señora Velasquez put their snacks into a plastic bag, exchanging glances with Rubia and Chula the entire time.

  Once outside with the security guards, Luz turned back toward the house, nearly running with the need to get away. “Let’s not go to the market now,” she said.

  “Luz de Maria Alba Mora.” Carmelita grabbed Luz by the arm and yanked her to a stop. “Have you ever in your entire life told somebody chingate?”

  Luz nearly dropped their snacks, startled by Carmelita’s intensity and bad language. Chingate meant fuck you in the most vulgar and literal way possible. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t let those old crones make you feel bad about Eddo,” Carmelita said. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything. Don’t you know how to stand up for yourself?”

  “Of course I do,” Luz protested. “I hit a man with a broken bottle once.”

  “You should have hit Rubia and wiped that look off her face.”

  “But then he shot me.”

  “You didn’t die,” Carmelita pointed out.

  The security officers had taken up positions around Luz and Carmelita. Rubia and Chula watched from the doorway of the abarrotes store.

  Luz swallowed hard and steered Carmelita back to the SUV in front of the Alba house. “Can you take us to Liverpool?” she asked the security officer. He opened the rear door for them.

  “You didn’t want to go to a party in Mexico City in a secondhand dress, anyway,” Carmelita murmured as she climbed into the vehicle.

  “I’m going to get shoes, too,” Luz said.

  Chapter 73

  Yolanda, one of the administrative assistants, squeezed by the pile of packing boxes in the hallway and tugged on Eddo’s sleeve. “Eduardo, can you come to the front for a moment? We need your signature.”

  Eddo walked into the main reception area of the campaign suite and signed his name on the digital pad held by a courier from an overnight delivery service. He walked back to his own cubicle, opened the envelope, and pulled out a single sheet of paper with the Montopa logo at the top. Below was a color photo of him and Elsa Caso on the yellow sofa. In the photo Eddo had his cell phone to his ear and Elsa was tossing her hair, clearly impatient. The caption read “already bought.”

  He dropped the paper on his desk, and sprinted back to the reception area. “That delivery guy?” he nearly shouted. “Where did he go?”

  “He left,” Yolanda said. “What’s the matter?”

  Eddo didn’t answer but shot out the door and down the service stairway. He made it to the front door of the building in time to see a scooter zip down the dark street.

  He bolted back up the stairs. The younger staff was still milling around, talking about going to a nearby restaurant for dinner. His face must have looked like thunder because the conversation stopped. Yolanda, a motherly type who always had a pad of paper in her hand, frowned at him. “What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Arturo?” he asked.

  “He left early,” Yolanda said. “It’s the wedding rehearsal tonight, remember?”

  “First thing tomorrow, please,” Eddo said. “Find out how the delivery company got the envelope. Where it got picked up. How long they took to get it here.”

  Yolanda wrote it all down, then looked up. “Okay, anything else?”

  Eddo took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. “I’ll be out of town after the wedding,” he reminded her. “Off the grid with some buddies before the move. Just remind Matilda and Nestor. I’ve already arranged to send all my personal stuff to Mexico City. You have the address there.”

  “I made sure everyone has it,” Yolanda said.

  “And you have the other important date on everyone’s calendar?” Eddo asked.

  “Yes.” Yolanda shook her head. “Your schedule is crazy. Do you ever sleep?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Eddo said. “You’ve still got Luz’s number, right? And her security?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  “Thanks, Yolanda.”

  Eddo went into his cubicle, logged off his computer, jammed the picture into his briefcase, and left the campaign headquarters for the apartment hotel where he’d been living.

  The small apartment was as sterile as the rest of the places he’d lived over the past few years. It was too late to run but he got on the treadmill anyway, needing to burn off the tension and pure rage he felt at seeing himself described as bought. By the third mile he admitted to himself that the investigation had never been just about Hugo. In the back of his mind he’d always planned to shut down the El Toro cartel and if he was right about Site 4, they’d do it.

  They still needed to find Sheba, however, and let the yacht lead them to the meeting.

  He ran five miles, the photo still bothering him. Eddo wiped his face with a forearm. It probably wasn’t by chance that the photo was of him talking on the phone. The message was that if Eddo got out of line, Luz could become a target. And Eddo was not going to let that happen. Again.

  Then there was the fact that the photo had been sent to campaign headquarters. Was that a not-so-subtle way of letting Eddo know that Gomez Mazzo regarded Arturo as bought, too?

  Eddo showered, found some dinner, and ca
lled Luz. He got his second shock of the day when a man answered her cell phone. Eddo was about to head for his car when he realized it was her brother.

  “Luz is indisposed.” Juan Pablo sounded very mature.

  “Indisposed?” Eddo asked. “As in, she’s in the bathroom?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “She’s okay? She’s not sick?”

  “She’s taking a bath,” Juan Pablo said. His tone softened and a little humor crept into it, as if he’d heard his own tone and realized it was overkill.

  “So how’s everything going?” Eddo asked. “Security car parked in front?”

  “Yes,” Juan Pablo said. “Tonight just like every night. Or is tonight special?”

  It was clear not much got past this kid and Eddo liked that. “There might be some developments,” Eddo admitted. “It would be good if you had your own way of getting in touch with me. Just in case.”

  Chapter 74

  Hugo slid his hands over the keyboard but didn’t type anything. Max Arias had his nerve, coolly disappearing for months with millions of Lorena’s campaign money and then posting a cryptic message like “New developments.” The developments were probably that some El Toro goons were on to him and the little fucker suddenly wanted to negotiate and save his skin. Well, Hugo would give 1612colcol some new developments to think about. Hugo was going to wring his fucking neck and get the money back. That would be a new development.

  Apart from being a thief, Max had totally steered him wrong with that crap about the stoolie from the fictional Los Hierros. That kid had been hot air with his shit story about Cortez being head of Los Hierros, having a girlfriend in Lomas Virreyes, and being barely scratched by the attempted carjacking on the Periferico. The truth was that Los Hierros was a media fabrication, the girlfriend had turned out to be some anonymous maid, and the local Puebla newspapers had covered Cortez’s slow recovery. Maybe Cortez had been part of Fonesca’s investigation which had led to Luis’ arrest and Hugo’s resignation but he hadn’t played a major role. Now, sporting a decent scar, Cortez was working for Arturo Romero, just as Hugo had assumed last year that he would.