by Dave Daren
“Naturally,” Judge Travis Williams grumbled while he sat back in his chair and glared at me.
“And you can show that you’ve learned your lesson by giving lighter sentences to those who might deserve a little leniency,” I continued. “We can help you realize who those people are.”
I couldn’t believe that I’d just said those words out loud, but I kept my face carefully blank as I watched the fat magistrate. I had just told an officer of the court that I wouldn’t turn him into the DA if he gave me leniency when I brought a case in front of him, but it was a necessary evil to make sure that the judge would be on a leash, and he wouldn’t be able to send any of my teens to juvie for years when they didn’t belong there in the first place.
“So I let your guys slide by, and you don’t take my case to the DA?” the judge asked as he drummed his fingers on the desk. “What’s in it for me?”
“You won’t go to prison,” I reminded him. “Judges don’t do well behind bars. Especially when they’re sent there for sending people to jail to line his pockets.”
Alvaro stood to walk around the room, and though the giant man moved as silently as a shadow, his presence was unmistakable. He casually pulled out his switchblade and began to flip it open and shut in the familiar tick that he used as an unspoken threat.
“I’m a respected man,” Travis Williams grinned as he sat forward to put his elbows on his desk.
The judge tried to ignore the intimidating second in command, but his beady eyes kept darting toward Alvaro as he strolled around the room and inspected the bookshelves.
“You are for now,” I reminded the magistrate as I drew his attention back to me, though the sound of the switchblade flicking open and closed still remained in the background.
“You may have some speculative information, but it’ll be my word against yours,” the older man said with a quick glance toward Alvaro.
“And the evidence I gathered,” I countered while I ignored the tall man who loomed nearby. “You really should be more careful when you filter money through Super PACs.”
The old magistrate narrowed his eyes, and his neck grew red as he clamped down on his rage.
“Fine,” the man huffed. “I give your boys a pass, and I stay out of jail.”
“Exactly,” I nodded my head. “And if you prove that you can learn from your mistakes, then we might be able to donate to your re-election campaign.”
“Let’s cut out all the legal mumbo jumbo,” Alvaro said as he came to stand at the edge of the desk.
He used the edge of his switchblade to lift a few papers in the judge’s inbox and then set them back down as he turned his dark eyes toward the fat magistrate.
“Alright,” the judge responded while he tried to stare back at the giant without fear. “What were you thinking?”
“Get the boys out, play nice when our boys come through your courtroom, we’ll keep your secrets, and we’ll throw… let’s say forty-thousand… into your campaign,” the dark eyed cartel man said with a small smirk. “I think that’s more than enough for your… friendship.”
“That is quite generous,” I reminded the judge.
“Or,” Alvaro said as he straightened and flicked his switchblade opened and closed again. “Osvaldo did say that if you didn’t accept the deal that I could present you with… other options.”
My late night drive through the Everglades rushed back to the forefront of my mind, and I hoped that I wouldn’t be included in whatever Alvaro had planned for the judge if he didn’t accept our offer. I did not want to be food for an alligator or a python, and a shiver ran up my spine as I remembered why the giant next to me always wore black.
“Well,” the judge blustered as he tried to remain tough in front of the terrifying enforcer’s calm smirk. “You listen here… I will not be threatened in my own home.”
“You do have a lovely family,” Alvaro remarked as he pointed to a portrait of the judge with his young wife and teenage son with his blade. “You have a lot to live for. They have a lot to live for.”
The threat was clear, either the judge accepted the deal we’d offered, or he and his family would forfeit their lives. He sputtered as he looked from the portrait to Alvaro and then back again. His face had turned an ugly shade of red that bordered on purple as his rage boiled over.
I didn’t believe the second in command would actually kill women and children, but he had a cool calm as he delivered the threat that made me start to question what I knew. I didn’t want to find out if it was a line that he was willing to cross, but the judge looked like he was about to start shouting, and if they came in, then Alvaro wouldn’t have much choice.
“Listen,” I said as I held up my open hands in front of me. “We all want to get out of this room in one piece.”
The judge turned his gaze on me, and for a second I thought he would fly over the desk to attack me. Instead he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then let it out as he calmed himself down.
“You come into my house,” he started in a low voice. “You threaten my career, my life, and the lives of my family. And you expect me to work with you?”
“I expect you to make the smart decision,” I informed him. “You have several options in front of you. The best is simply to do what you’ve already been doing. But instead of sending people to jail you’ll show them leniency. And your campaign fund will benefit.”
“And if I don’t, then you’ll have this goon slice me and my family up?” the judge snarled with a gesture toward Alvaro.
The giant lifted an eyebrow as he shrugged nonchalantly and began to walk around the room again like a panther on the prowl.
“Mr. Fuentes has been very generous with his offers,” I said as my stomach clenched and bile threatened to rise.
The fat magistrate ground his teeth together, his hands balled into fists on the top of his desk, and his eyes were glued to the portrait of his family that hung on the wall by the door. He took a few deep breaths in and out as he contemplated his options, his attention darted over to Alvaro as the giant began to play with his switchblade again, and then he glared at me as if I had been the one to ruin his life rather than his own greed. He opened his mouth a few times but no words came out.
“I guess I don’t really have a choice now, do I?” he finally grumbled. “Fine. You have a deal. But I want a fifty-thousand dollar donation to my campaign fund.”
“Done,” Alvaro said with a smirk as he rejoined us at the desk. “I’m glad that you made the right choice. The boys will be released tomorrow morning.”
“Sure,” the judge huffed. “I’ll make some calls when you leave.”
“I have an appointment at nine a.m. at Everson,” I said as I stood. Our business was done, and I didn’t want to stay any longer than I had to. “They should be ready to leave with me.”
“Fine,” Judge Travis Williams muttered as he picked up his cell phone.
“See you soon,” Alvaro said with a smirk as he opened the office door. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
My heart raced as I followed the giant back through the house. The judge had accepted the deal, no one had been hurt, and Camilo would be released in the morning.
All I had to do was bring Osvaldo up to date and hope that he was as pleased with the outcome as I was.
Chapter 21
“How’d it go?” our driver asked as we strolled down the sidewalk toward him.
He leaned against the shiny black SUV with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the white smoke curled up over his head, and the sleeves of his black button up shirt were rolled up to his elbows. He looked like every stereotypical mobster that I’d ever seen in the movies.
“Fine,” Alvaro responded in his low, soft voice as he walked around to climb into the backseat.
“Good,” the beefy man said while he tossed his cigarette on the concrete driveway and ground it out with his foot.
I walked around to the passenger side, opened the door to an air conditio
ned cabin, and slid into the leather seat. I was still shaking from the encounter with the judge, but the adrenaline had started to wear off, and the joy of winning began to take its place.
“You okay?” the driver asked as he took his place behind the wheel.
His dark eyes swept over me like he was checking for wounds, but when he didn’t find any he lifted an eyebrow at me curiously.
“Yeah,” I said with a smile.
“Good,” the man said again with an approving nod.
The beefy man cranked up the SUV, checked his mirrors, and then began to back out of the judge’s driveway. The magistrate stood at the front window, his eyes locked on us, and his hands clasped behind his back.
“So, am I going home now?” I asked as we sped along toward the highway in silence.
“No, Jipato,” Alvaro said from the back seat.
He had his legs stretched out as much as possible and his hands folded in his lap. His almost black eyes stared straight ahead when I turned to look at him, and the familiar smirk tugged at his lips like he was amused by the situation.
“Where are we going, then?” I asked.
My mind flashed to the drive I’d taken with the two men on our way to the police station, through the Everglades, and the alligators that waited to devour me.
“To see the boss,” the giant second in command said. “You need to give him your report.”
“Of course,” I said with a relieved sigh as I turned back around to stare out of the window.
“You did well in there, Jipato,” Alvaro told me.
“Thanks,” I replied. “I’m glad that the judge accepted our first offer.”
“Me, too,” the terrifying enforcer mumbled to himself.
I glanced at the dark haired man using the side mirror, and I saw that he was staring out of his window with a small frown. He ran his hand over the top of his hair and then down into the loose hair that hung around his shoulders. He shook his head and then pulled out his phone to text something.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked as our driver wove through traffic.
The highway was bumper to bumper leaving the city, but rush hour traffic into the concrete jungle flowed steadily, and the beefy man behind the wheel sped around anyone who drove too slow for his liking.
“You asking me?” the man asked.
“Both of you, I guess,” I said with a shrug as I twisted in my seat to look at both of the men in the SUV with me.
“What’s up?” the driver asked while he slammed on the brakes and shifted lanes to narrowly avoid crashing into the car in front of us.
“How did you get into this business?” I wondered.
“Grew up in it,” the man replied. “It’s a family business.”
I turned my attention to Alvaro. I was curious how the giant had become the second in command for the Miami branch of the Cuban Cartel. I imagined some kind of cage fight where only the strongest survived, and the giant man emerging victorious.
“Family business,” the black-eyed man said without looking at me.
He didn’t add anything else, and I was left to wonder if he’d climbed the ranks by offing his family members. I didn’t think he would actually kill someone he was related to, but he had threatened the judge’s wife and son, so I couldn’t rule anything out.
“Does the boss know we’re on our way?” the driver asked.
The question cut through the silence that had filled the SUV, and I realized that I’d been holding my breath as I waited for Alvaro’s shoulders to relax. The second in command sighed as he turned from his window to look at the driver.
“I already texted him,” the soft voiced man answered. “He’s expecting us at his apartment.”
“Oh,” the beefy man in the seat next to me said. “Okay. I’ll have us there in about twenty minutes.”
Alvaro grunted and then lost himself in his thoughts as he stared out into the city that had sprung up around us. Ancient houses with dilapidated roofs and porches gave way to shopping centers. The outdoor malls became schools, tourist attractions, and skyscrapers.
A comfortable silence had filled the SUV as we made our way to Osvaldo’s apartment, and I tried not to let my mind run wild with possibilities. I had done well with the judge so I would likely leave our meeting intact, but the change in venue from our usual appointments set me on edge.
The beefy driver swerved across two lanes to take an exit and narrowly missed the front bumper of a white Ford Fiesta. He sped up to make a yellow light, and then he turned into the gateway for a high rise apartment building. He typed the gate code into the metal buttons, faced forward, and drove through as the arched metal in front of us swung inwards.
“Welcome to Osvaldo’s home,” Alvaro said as the driver parked in one of the spots near the front.
“Does he own the whole building?” I wondered while I leaned forward so I could take in the entire structure.
It was at least twenty stories high with balconies that jutted out from each of the three sides that I could see. The top of the building had a communications tower with a blinking red light to warn planes that the massive high rise had invaded their airspace.
“No,” the second in command said with his usual smirk as he opened his door and stepped out into the evening. “Just the top three floors.”
“The top three?” I muttered in wonder as I climbed out.
I glanced around to the other buildings around us, which were all high class high rises like the one in front of me, and I knew from searches on Zillow that even one of the condos cost millions of dollars.
“Let’s go,” Alvaro said as he strolled toward the large glass doors with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants.
“Right,” I said while I followed after the giant shadow man.
The second in command seemed even taller with the light of the building turning him into a silhouette. His broad shoulders added to his intimidating physique, and I was grateful that I still hadn’t learned how good he was with his switchblade.
Brilliant light bounced off of the pure white tile of the lobby and shimmered against the chandeliers that hung high above us every few feet. There was a white marble reception desk with a tired looking security guard behind it. The gray-haired man blinked at us as we neared, and then he smiled as Alvaro nodded.
“Good to see you this evening, Mr. Cruz,” the older man said. “Mr. Fuentes is already upstairs. He asked to see a Mr… Jipato? Yes, a Mr. Jipato, alone.”
“Sure,” the giant said with a one shoulder shrug with his hands still in his pockets. “I’ll take him up there, though. Are the guys here, too?”
“Yes, sir,” the security guard said after a yawn cracked open his face to show that he was missing one of his bottom molars. “They’re waiting for you.”
“Great,” Alvaro said while he pressed the button for the elevator.
I braced as the glass box slid down to the lobby. I had never been fond of elevators, one too many nightmares about them careening downwards, but there was no way that I could climb twenty flights of stairs and still manage to present myself to the cartel boss. So, I stepped inside the deathtrap and tried not to watch the ground as it fell further and further away.
“Am I going to the top floor?” I asked as I glanced at the two lit buttons, one for the highest floor, and one for the level just below it.
“You are,” the shadow giant responded. “When the elevator opens, you will go to the door on your left. Aron should be on duty, and he will let you in to see the boss.”
“Got it,” I said with a nod as the elevator reached Alvaro’s floor. “Well, have a good night.”
“You, too, Jipato,” the second in command said as he disembarked from the glass elevator.
I took a deep breath in to steady my nerves as the elevator doors closed and began to climb to the next floor. I hadn’t met with Osvaldo alone before. Alvaro had always been in the room like a silent warning that my life could be forfeit at any momen
t, and I couldn’t tell if his absence made me more or less worried about the outcome of my evening.
“Mr. Torres,” a short, dark-haired man with an impressive mustache said as I stepped out of the elevator.
He had on black slacks and dress shoes, but his long sleeve button-up was bright red with white palm tree branches at all angles. He came up to my chin, though his barrel chest and beefy shoulders were enough to make me glad he was smiling at me.
“Hello,” I said with a grin and a nod of my head. “You must be Aron. I’m here to see the boss.”
“Yep,” the muscular man replied as he took out a key to unlock the door. “Go on in. Last I heard, he’s out on the balcony.”
“Great,” I said. “Thanks for the help. Have a great night.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected Osvaldo’s home to look like, maybe pictures of Havana or gilded furniture, but as I walked inside I was greeted with sleek, modern furniture. There were blueprints for the warehouses and cargo ships suspended in frameless glass all along the entryway. The hall opened into a rectangular living room that spanned most of the building, though there were a few doors to the left and right that I suspected were the bedrooms and bathrooms.
“Roberto,” a middle-aged woman with long, curly dark hair stood behind a large marble island that separated the living room from the kitchen.
She had a wide smile, high cheekbones, and dark-brown eyes that glinted like onyx in the pure white lights above her. She had on a black blouse and light blue jeans that were tight enough to accentuate the bubble of her butt, and a diamond ring on her left hand that could sink a ship.
“You must be Mrs. Fuentes,” I said with a warm grin on my face. “I’m here to see your husband about some business.”
“Oh, yes,” the woman said with a nod as she pointed with a knife toward the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No, ma’am,” I responded, though I wasn’t sure how welcome I would be at my employer’s dinner table.
“Well, then once you’re done with Osvaldo, you’ll join us for some arroz con pollo,” she told me. “And my daughters have made flan for one of their classes. They made an extra to share with us. We’re the taste testers.”