The Cartel Takedown

by Frank Dorn

  The General sighed. “It is not the same. Plus the course listing is incomplete, as is the faculty list.” General Flores continued.

  “I expect that giving their full course listing away could allow competitors to steal it. The same could be said for their faculty. Competitors might hire them away or worse, eliminate them – and from their point of view I can understand why the faculty has, for the most part, adopted pseudonyms. Frankly it’s a point in their favor in my book. Shows they’re careful and smart.” Starbuck answered.

  “But where are the prices? What do the degrees cost?” Jose asked?

  “I can understand the need for caution but this degree of secrecy strikes me as suspicious.” His uncle added.

  “They were hacked just today. Look, I got an email. Explains everything.”

  Jose showed his phone to Starbuck. Jose’s uncle looked over Starbuck’s shoulder. “I think the website would do better on a larger screen.”

  Flores’ constant complaining and fault finding was beginning to get on the drug lord’s nerves. Couldn’t he go two minutes without some grievance or other? What a miserable man to have around. That, coupled with the army’s disastrous attack on his compound, were almost enough to push him into finding a new source for government backed security or even relocating his business entirely.

  Honestly, he wondered if it wasn’t time for him to turn his life in a new direction. Career changes for middle aged drug lords who were rumored to never have finish grade school and lived in a so-called developing nation didn’t look easy.

  Akhim joined them. “Still looking at that school.”

  “Yes. Jose seems very interested.”

  “How about you?”

  “I am intrigued.”

  Akhim touched his shoulder lightly in a friendly way. “You should consider teaching there.”

  Starbuck laughed. “Me? I could teach a class in having your own security forces destroy your entire operation I suppose, but enrollment might be low.”

  “You are too modest. This was a setback, to be sure, but nothing you can’t overcome.”

  “Perhaps, but I do not know if I want to.” Starbuck studied Akhim and chose his words carefully. “You have experienced a few setbacks and career changes in your later years. How hard was it to switch into new industries?”

  Akhim laughed. “I’ve been asked several versions of that same question but never so thoughtfully worded. I tell you what, if you let me buy you dinner I will bend your ear for as long as you wish.”

  “I regret that cannot happen, at least not tonight.”

  Alarm bells were jangling Akhim’s last nerve but he kept his face carefully neutral. Surreptitiously checking the nearest exits he replied lightly “Why not?”

  Starbuck smiled. “Because there is banquet planned tonight. It will be held in my - our town square. The entire community will be there, as well as the General and his troops and myself.”

  “Of course.”

  “Our hope is that you and Miss Kelani will consent to be the guests of honor.”

  Akhim stuffed his hands in his pockets and studied his shoes. “Most certainly, although you really didn’t have to go to so much trouble, especially in light of recent events.”

  Starbuck laughed. “On the contrary. Such a celebration is more important than ever. Their are rifts and resentments which must be dealt with. You provide a convenient distraction.”

  Akhim laughed. “I would be flattered if only it were true.”

  Starbuck clapped him on the shoulder. “If it had just been you alone, I might – might, agree. I would still want to pick your brain, but ...”

  “I don’t turn heads like Lea.”

  “Miss Kelani is a nonpareil and it isn’t only her looks or talents.”

  “She’s famous, fearless, and funny, too.”

  “No that’s not it. She’s kind.”

  There were many words Akhim could use to describe Brandie. None of them were accurate, at least taken alone. She was agile, strong, and fearless. She was brilliant, loyal, and generous. At times she was selfless. And at other times, most other times, more negative descriptive terms came to mind.

  “She’s certainly one of a kind.” Akhim left ‘Thankfully!’ unspoken.

  ~*~

  D’agastino was alone because he needed to be. The conversation he was having was for his ears only, which was why he sat in the crook of a tree over fifty feet off the ground. From his perch he could keep an eye out for eavesdroppers. He held the phone to his ear.

  “Tell me what you know.”

  There was no answer. D’agastino continued. “Damned near three dozen men died today. I want to know why.”

  An exaggerated sigh answered him.

  “I think the producer and that damned actress are somehow involved.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “The movie is a front. It’s a cover for the CIA or some other dark ops group. Like they did in Iran rescuing the hostages.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Argo. It’s Arabic for I hope.”

  “Great, what is Arabic for I don’t care?”

  “If you don’t care don’t ask.”

  “Prove the CIA is behind the army’s attack.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You’re useless.”

  “Then why did you call?”

  “Because you’re not here.”

  There was silence. “Okay I deserve that. The level of sophistication and integration necessary to misdirect phone and internet traffic in a localized area is such that only a large and very well funded group could pull it off. There are only a handful of such organizations in the world.”

  “Like Anonymous?”

  “Anonymous is a joke. They had a few talented amateurs once, but they’re all in jail or are working for someone else now.”

  “Give me a list of suspects.”

  “Russia, China, the Koreas, Great Britain, and the U S of A. Only one of them is involved in the drug war.”

  “But they are fighting each other, too. How do you know it isn’t a setup?”

  “The movie. It’s being produced by Earl Graham’s company and he’s best friends with the president. The two of them have worked together in the past to control the media message and spin their political priorities and launch clandestine non-state attacks. That seems like too much of coincidence to me. So it’s either the CIA or privateers working for the president. Take your pick.”

  “How do you fight them?”

  “I don’t. They’ve got weaponized computers that can take down a satellite and drop it on your head. I bet they’re listening to this call right now and if they send anyone like that actress after me I’ll end up in worse shape than you and your men did.”

  Damn. His troop being beaten by that little girl rankled. The fewer people who knew about it the better. He’d deal with this computer geek later. D’agastino looked up through the canopy, perhaps looking for falling satellites. He didn’t see any. “Are you sure, absolutely certain, that Kalani and Gudan are involved?”

  The answer would determine whether they lived through the night.

  “Don’t know. They might be innocent pawns, but that Akhim character went to school with Graham and the US president too.”

  “Despite yourself you have given me much to think about.”

  “Yeah that could work.”

  “Smart ass.”

  “Dumb ass.”

  “Since you can’t do anything what would you suggest I do?”

  “Do a Torquemada on their ass. Kill ‘em all and let God sort them out.”

  “Killing a pretty young starlet will bring the whole world down on us, and most likely you too.”

  “Make it look like an accident.”

  “That only works in the movies, and not even there.”

  “Then do some magic and just make them disappear.”

  “What about you?”

 
“As soon as you hang up I’m taking the battery out of my cell phone and unplugging every electronic device in my house.”

  “Wimp.”

  “Idiot. Take your phone apart after you hang up, and be careful. Very very careful.”

  “Back at you.”

  They hung up. D’agastino dropped his phone into his pants pocket and eyed the route down. Now he wished he hadn’t climbed so high. Taking a deep breath he started down.

  He hadn’t gone five feet when he felt his pocket warming up. His phone. Damn it! The battery was still in place and it was heating up. He scrambled back to his perch and tried to fish it out of his pocket but it blistered his fingertips. Swearing, he unbuckled his pants and tried to pull them off. They were down to his knees when his phone exploded, knocking him off the tree.

  Falling took under two seconds.

  D’agastino’s legs were broken but he couldn’t feel them. His back was broken too. He knew he wasn’t going to make it and he didn’t want to. He was a physical man. A fighter. Losing half his body was just too much to bear contemplating. It was his time, but despite that, he managed to etch out “C I A LEA” before his strength gave out.

  Insects were crawling over him. Biting insects were feasting. Soon the sun would set and other, larger predators and scavengers would come.

  Four and one half hours later, he died. It was not an easy death.

  The next morning three members of his gang found his body. It was barely recognizable as a human, let alone a D’agastino, and the message he had carefully dug into the ground had been disturbed by a number of animals during the night.

  The smartest of the group studied it. He took out his phone and snapped pictures of both the body, and the message.

  “What do you suppose it means?”

  “C I A is central intelligence agency. L E A is law enforcement agency.”

  “Thank you captain obvious. What does it mean?”

  “He was murdered by the C I A?”

  “Or some other law enforcement agency.”

  “Or L E A stands for Lea, like the Star Wars princess or our own Kung Fu starlet.”

  “Oh come on! That isn’t how she spells her name and don’t tell me you or he didn’t know. There are probably half a million autographed photos in ten square miles.”

  “You exaggerate.” One of the men knelt beside the body. He recovered a wallet, ring, and a set of dog tags. He left one with the body and pocketed the rest.

  “Should we bury him?”

  “Nah, let the jungle take him.”

  “The jungle really does have teeth.”

  “I still hate that title.”

  “You’re just jealous of Kalani.”

  “Hell he’s jealous of Jose.”

  “Screw you. We have to report to the general.”

  11. 11

  The restaurant and bar was one of those garish chains that dotted the American landscape. The neon name above the door didn’t matter; they were all the same: boring. This one had the advantage of being just near enough to the airport to be out of the way and undesirable but just far enough from the airport to be inconvenient for passengers.

  As a consequence it was never crowded and the patrons were mostly flight and ground crews. Charlie liked it. This was where he spent his Friday nights. The crowd was always a little bigger and more boisterous, but just as anonymous as ever.

  He would show up at eight o’clock, order a burger, salad, and fries with a beer, then stay for second beer. If he was in a good mood or the crowd was entertaining, he might even have a third beer, but ten, ten thirty at the latest, he was on his way home.

  Tonight he was drinking plum brandy. One hundred proof. Straight. Nothing else would do after the 54 hour day he had. Especially after the day he had. D’agastano’s death didn’t bother him. Well, it didn’t bother him much. The man had been a bully and a killer and deserved what he got which was blowing him out of a tree and falling fifty feet to his lingering and painful death.

  What bothered him was that he had been compromised. Not directly, and certainly not thoroughly. Nothing pointed to him, nothing had his name on it, but somehow he had implicated his friends, co-workers, and employers.

  And two of them were in mortal danger. And he didn’t know what to do about it. He was playing catch up, trying to stop them from being further compromised or even killed. It was not a position he liked or was used to.

  He had warned them, and then gone dark. That was all he could do for now. The Uber driver that had dropped him off would be back in half an hour. Time for two more drinks. Then he would go home, reset his defenses, and go to sleep. After twelve hours of rest he would start again tomorrow. He would find the hacker who was spreading lies about him that were uncomfortably too near to the truth and he would silence him.

  Failure was not an option.

  ~*~

  It was near eleven PM eastern standard time. Earl was still at his desk as Betty was at hers. She was frowning at her monitor. There were several dozen browser windows open and all of them had bad news. Sighing, she turned the monitor off and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. Inside were a pair of tumblers and a jar of authentic aged West Virginia moonshine.

  She took them out, stood, knocked on her boss’s door and went in without waiting for a response.

  Earl looked up, surprised. “Betty are you still here?”

  “I have news.”

  He eyed the tumblers and the Mason jar. “Not good news.”

  In answer she set the glasses down and opened the jar. She filled the glasses to near the rim, leaving just half an inch in the bottom of the jar. She drank it before screwing on the cap, then she sat down across from him.

  “That bad?”

  She picked up her glass and took a sip. Earl picked up his glass and did the same. The fiery liquid burned his throat, making his eyes water.

  “That bad.”

  Earl took another gulp. “Give it to me straight.”

  That earned a smile from his secretary. “Do you remember my mentioning The Jungle Has Teeth?”

  “Charlie’s movie. Yes.”

  “There are some difficulties.”

  Earl simply sipped and waited. Betty took another drink and continued. “The operation was compromised from the start, but I have just learned that it has gotten worse.”

  “Are Brandie and Akhim all right?”

  “Last I heard they are alive but in grave – graver danger.”

  “Contact Trace and arrange for an extraction. Never mind, I’ll do it.”

  He reached for his phone but Betty raised her hand. “It gets worse.”

  Earl dropped the phone back in its cradle and took another drink.

  “Charlie has managed to create a rather elaborate series of hoax websites which have garnered rather a lot of unwanted attention, some of which has redounded to you. Drug Lord University for instance.”

  “Is that really its name?”

  “No sir, but the description fits.”

  “Why – never mind. Continue.”

  “The movie website lists Graham Entertainment as the production company. Rumors of your involvement with the President, as well as Akhim, have fueled speculation that you are running a clandestine quasi-military force to combat social ills around the globe. The foundations of rumors and speculations are of course wildly inaccurate but that does not mitigate the unfortunate reality that the conclusions are, at least in part, correct.”

  Earl took another, larger, drink and coughed. “Oh I don’t know about that.”

  “The press has picked up on the story and are nosing about. It began with Hollywood gossip outlets, but is has moved into the conspiracy websites and from there has jumped to the mainstream media, who have yet to publish any stories.”

  “Because you have skillfully deflected any and all inquiries.”

  “I used my high dudgeon voice.”

  “I wish I could have heard that.” Earl laughed.

  “I ma
y have suggested a rather heavy handed response if they printed such unfounded and scurrilous accusations. The upside is that they have left you and Graham Enterprises alone. The down side is that they are now looking for confirmation inside the White House.”