The Rebel of Goza

by Steven F Freeman

He stares at me without speaking.

  Where to begin?

  “Yes?” he says at last.

  “Father, something has happened.”

  Somehow, the silence of his inquisitive stare is more unnerving than his usual tell me.

  “You remember how we talked about restarting the family distillery business?”

  His eyes harden. “Gabriela, we’re not going to have this discussion again, especially in the middle of a work day.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to discuss.”

  “What, then?”

  I clear my throat. “We all work hard. It didn’t feel right asking you and Oscar to work the fields all day and then work our own fields in the evening. So I’ve been doing some of the work myself…at night.”

  Father shifts in his seat. “What work? What exactly were you doing?”

  “Preparing the far field. And of course once the crop is ready, it needs to be prepared. So last night, I opened up our old distillery.”

  Storm clouds gather on Papi’s countenance. “After I told you not to?”

  “I didn’t see how it’d hurt anyone. I wasn’t asking anyone to do extra work but me.” I can’t delay the news any longer. “But then something happened. I saw…men…working in the old distillery building. Papi, they were narcos! They’re using our building to store their drugs!”

  Father’s face registers shock.

  “There’s more,” I continue. “I tried to sneak out before they saw me, but they heard my phone receive a message and chased me. I didn’t think I’d get away.”

  “But you’re safe, thanks to God.”

  I hang my head. “I am. But an hour ago, I went to ask Abuelo for help.” I lay my hand on Papi’s dust-coated arm and lower my voice. “Father, he’s been killed…murdered.”

  “Murdered!”

  “And Oscar has been kidnapped.”

  His eyes sharpen. “How do you know he’s kidnapped and not just out?”

  “After I saw Abuelo, I ran home to make sure you and Oscar were safe. I found a note the narcos left. It said to keep quiet about their activities or they’d kill him.”

  “But how did they know…?” He trails off, and his mouth forms a grim line. “They must have recognized you.”

  I hesitate before continuing in a whisper. “I didn’t think so, but…yes. They must have.”

  “And now your abuelo and your brother are paying the price for your headstrong nature.”

  “I…yes. But Papi, none of us knew about the narcos. I wouldn’t have gone near there if I had.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. I don’t have time to sit here talking. I have to save Oscar.” He faces the road, then turns back to me. “You need to get out of town.”

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere. Go see Aunt Luz in Mexico City. She’s been wanting to see you. Just…get yourself somewhere safe, somewhere far away from here.” Turning back, he punches the pickup’s accelerator and trundles across the field, sending portions of his agave harvest bouncing out of the bed every few seconds.

  It would’ve been better to work together to solve this, but Papi doesn’t think that way.

  As I watch the pickup shrink in the distance, the knots in my stomach tighten. I’m sure as hell not leaving town, not while Oscar’s life hangs in the balance.

  I have to save him. But how?

  CHAPTER 16

  “Coming!” yells Alex as I ring the doorbell to his house a second time.

  The right side of the double mahogany doors swings open.

  “Gaby,” he says in surprise. “I thought you’d be working right now.”

  I grab him by the arm. “Let’s go to your room.”

  Once there, Alex guides me to a plush chair, then sits across from me on his bed, giving me his full attention.

  “What’s up?” he asks.

  In a few hurried moments, I explain the events of the last eighteen hours.

  Alex chews the fingernail of his index finger. “You’re sure they’re narcos?”

  “Ninety-nine percent sure, yes. Otherwise, why would they chase me through the fields of my own property?”

  He nods. “You need to call the police.”

  “I tried yesterday, when I first saw them at the old distillery. They blew me off. And then I realized…if Volante is down here, surely he already has the local police in his pocket. Plus, the note said don’t tell anyone. I call the police now, the narcos are sure to kill Oscar.”

  “Good point,” says Alex. “So now what?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you could tell me.” I ponder the question. “Earlier, you said your dad could help us. Could we go to him?”

  “What can my dad do about something like this?” says Alex, sweeping his hand in an arc.

  “He moves in powerful circles, right? Friends in the government?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Can he do some checking? See if he can find out exactly what Marcos Volante is doing down here? Maybe he’ll discover a bargaining chip to get Oscar back alive.”

  “Makes sense.” Alex whips out his cellphone and sends off a brief text. “I asked him if he can talk. This isn’t the sort of topic you want to cover in a text message.”

  No reply.

  A minute stretches into three. Still Alex’s cellphone remains silent. “He must be in meetings. That’s usually the case when he doesn’t reply right away. Hopefully, he’ll answer soon.” His eyes study my sweaty, disheveled form from top to bottom. “Mi amor, you’re a mess. Want something to drink?”

  I can drink most men under the table, but I rarely drink at all. Ironic, right, considering I work for a tequila distillery? After today’s events, I’ll make an exception.

  “Sure,” I tell him.

  “There’s brandy in my father’s liquor cabinet. Let me get some of that.” After rising from the bed, he eases the door shut behind him.

  I wait. For the first time, I notice the ticking of an expensive mantel clock placed over the fireplace in the room’s far corner. The adrenaline starts to wear off, prompting my hands to tremble.

  The chime of Alex’s cellphone pierces the room’s silence.

  A message! Maybe that’s his dad. I rise from the armchair and step over to the device he left on his bed.

  It’s an incoming text all right—from El Granjero, The Farmer.

  CHAPTER 17

  My blood runs cold, and my fingertips tingle. Why is Alex receiving texts from a ruthless drug lord? And what does that mean for Oscar? Will Alex pass along our conversation to The Farmer?

  I need time to think—and get away from this two-faced snake. But I can’t leave too quickly, or he’ll suspect something’s up. I scurry back to the armchair and do my best to compose myself.

  Alex returns, a small wine glass in each hand.

  “Take this,” he says, handing one over to me.

  I down it in one gulp. Only after I set down the glass does it occur to me he might have spiked it. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  Alex raises his eyebrows but says nothing. His tentative sip is followed by a quiet cough.

  He glances at his phone. His countenance doesn’t change one bit, as if receiving texts from drug bosses are an everyday occurrence. After reading the message, his eyes turn to me, inquisitive.

  I turn on the emotionless expression I’ve used for years when ignoring catcalls from the local mujeriegos, the ladies’ men. If Alex is looking to see whether I’ve discovered who sent his last incoming message, my face won’t betray the answer.

  My mind races, calculating how to keep the information I’ve shared with Alex from hurting my brother. “You know, I’m having second thoughts about involving your dad. What if word gets back to Oscar’s kidnappers?”

  “But didn’t the note say don’t go to the police? It didn’t name anyone else to avoid, did it?”

  “No, but it said to ‘keep my mouth shut.’ Who knows how the kidnappers will feel about me going to the most powerful man in
the city? I don’t want to provoke them.”

  Alex eyes me, a strange expression on his face.

  Time to sell this charade. I step forward and drape my arms over his shoulders. “You love me, right?”

  He smiles, the tension leaving his face. “Yeah.”

  “Then work with me on this. I don’t care what the narcos are doing. I’m only concerned with getting my brother back. And I might not if we don’t follow their instructions.”

  “Okay, I’ll make up something else to run by my father.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why don’t you get some rest,” he says. “You can’t help Oscar if you’re exhausted.”

  “I will.”

  Refusing his offer to see me out, I blow him a kiss and make my way off his family’s property, heading for home.

  I feel sick…betrayed…and incredibly pissed. Why is Alex in bed with a narco, especially one who has killed Abuelo and kidnapped my brother?

  And how many more of Alex’s statements are lies? Does he really love me at all, or am I just his piece of ass? His side action?

  And did he betray my identity to Volante? If so, why? To further his empire-building dreams? How much did Volante have to pay to buy Alex’s loyalty?

  Alex…I’ve always known the motherfucker had an ego, but I never perceived the depths of his narcissism—or lack of moral compass—until now.

  Trudging down the road, a single tear runs down a cheek burning with white-hot anger. Two years of memories slip away like shifting desert sands. Whatever else happens, I know this chapter of my life has ended.

  CHAPTER 18

  Marcos Volante drums his fingers on the wheel of his decade-old Ford F-150 pickup truck. Some of the other cartel leaders drive Escalades and Mercedes and the like. Not Volante. He’s smart enough to avoid drawing attention to himself in a working-class town like Capilla de Guadalupe. With this in mind, he’s parked in the back lot of a decrepit gas station several kilometers outside the pueblo, far from curious eyes on a road leading to Guadalajara. To be safe, two of his lieutenants are stationed diagonally across the street to warn him of any approaching trouble.

  Seeing the rich punk park and approach his truck, Volante unlocks the doors.

  Alex raises himself into the passenger seat and nods in greeting. “Granjero.”

  Volante doesn’t bother returning the salutation. Reacting in unexpected ways keeps people on their toes. “What do you want?”

  The rich kid licks his lips. “I heard you had a run in with…a girl.”

  “More like a run away—her running from us.” His eyes narrow. “What’s it to you?”

  “That was Gabriela, my girlfriend.”

  “Nice-looking puta. Better hope she keeps her mouth shut, or you’ll be in the market for a new chica.”

  “Don’t worry,” Alex hastens to add. “I just had a talk with her before I came over here. She’s worried about her brother and isn’t telling anyone about the, um, project on her family’s property.”

  Volante grunts.

  Alex shifts in his seat. “So what’s the next step in the operation?”

  “Depends. Did you deliver the ‘gifts’ to our police friends?”

  “Yes, although I’m not comfortable doing that kind of thing.”

  “Oh, you’re not comfortable, are you? How comfortable do you think I’d be? Me, a wanted criminal, strolling into the police station?”

  Alex shrugs. “It’s just risky. That’s all.”

  “Look,” says Volante, locking the youth in a stare. “You said you want to be more successful than your old man, right?”

  “More than anything,” replies Alex through tight lips.

  “Then you have to take some risks. Your dad didn’t make his money playing it safe all the time. Neither can you.”

  Alex nods. “I understand.”

  “You do that, and you’ll pass him up before long—especially since he doesn’t have the benefit of working with upstanding gentlemen like me.” He chuckles at his own joke, then grows serious. “Remember this one rule: don’t fuck with me. Do as you’re told, and the sky’s the limit.”

  Alex nods, warming to the challenge. “Got it. What’s next?”

  “For you? Wait for my orders. And keep your girlfriend home, away from the old distillery. Most important, make sure she keeps her mouth shut—or I’ll do it for her.”

  “Don’t worry,” replies Alex. “She’ll be quiet. I’ll see to that.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Thoughts crowd my mind as I near home.

  Given that Volante has likely paid off informants around town, I had initially worried that my absence from work might trigger suspicion if Volante found out. But with the drug kingpin’s attack on my family, he clearly knew my identity already.

  I reach my house.

  Cracking the front door, I call out through the gap. “Papi?”

  No answer.

  I move over the threshold and peer around the room. Seeing no one, I grab an aged wooden doorstop off the floor and hold it overhead, ready to strike if necessary.

  I glide through the house, checking each room for intruders, my legs ready to take flight any moment.

  Still no one. Besides myself, motes of dust floating in sunbeams provide the only movement.

  I return the doorstop to its place and release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

  A sheet of folded notebook paper rests on the table, my name written across it in Papi’s handwriting. I unfold it. I came home for food supplies but you weren’t here. I hope you’ve gone to stay with Aunt Luz. I have gone to help Oscar and will return as soon as I can. Has Papi gone to find Oscar himself? If so, how could he hope to overcome the entire gang? Or does he have something different in mind? Whatever his plan, he’s not here now. I text him but receive no reply—not unusual, given the spotty service in this rural area.

  Retreating to the kitchen, I shiver. The house is safe for now, but for how long? If the thugs came once, they could come again. Will Alex pass along my ‘do-nothing’ story to Volante? And even if he does, will the drug kingpin believe him? Or will Volante kill Oscar, just to be sure?

  The chorus of questions crowd my mind, inciting a surge of hopelessness and fear. But as quickly as the feelings threaten to overwhelm me, they recede.

  Something in me…changes.

  Anger ignites a fire in my chest. Determination takes over.

  If I’m going to rescue my brother from ruthless gang members, I’ll have to fight like they do: decisively, without mercy, with the intent to kill. It’s what they do to anyone who stands in their way. Half-measures will only get me and Oscar killed. And maybe my father as well.

  But how to take them on with any chance of success? The narcos bristle with weapons, and I have none, except…

  What about my hands and feet? After years of Taekwondo training, I can take out a man or two.

  But not the entire pack of them. Who knows how many are in the old distillery now? I’ll need help.

  My first instinct is to ask for help from Miguel, my long-time friend and fellow Taekwondo instructor. But is it fair to ask him to take such a deadly risk?

  I ponder the question. Our town isn’t rich, but its people are good about coming together in times of crises. And for me at least, this is one of those times. With Oscar’s life hanging in the balance, I have no choice.

  I set off for town, determined to seek help from my friends. On the way, I send a text to Lily. “Any news?”

  Her reply comes within seconds. “Yes. Might be dangerous to write in a text. Can you come see me?”

  “Yes. Give me a few hours.” I slide the device back in my pocket and hurry my pace.

  I find Miguel manning the host stand in his father’s small restaurant, where he works as the general manager.

  “Hi, Gaby,” he calls out as I enter.

  I stride to his side. “We need to talk in private for a few minutes.”

  Sensing my anxiety, h
is eyebrows bunch together. “Sure. Let’s go to the office.” He motions over one of the waitresses to take his spot.

  Once in the tiny office, he closes the door and waves me to a rickety faux-leather chair. “What’s up?”

  I use the next ten minutes to recap the events of the last day. My face burns hot when I describe Alex’s betrayal. Miguel could crow ‘I told you so’ about my former boyfriend but elects to remain silent.

  At the end of my description, he whistles and shakes his head. “Your abuelo is dead? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. There’s no doubt.” I stare into his eyes. “But Oscar isn’t. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”

  “A rescue?”

  “That was the idea.”

  “I’m in,” he replies without hesitation. “What’s your plan?”

  “That’s partly where I need your help. I haven’t gotten that far yet. I needed to know who’d be fighting with me first.”

  “Speaking of that, have you asked Carlos for help, too?”

  I shake my head. “No. That’s different. It was hard enough asking you. But at least you and I have been friends for years. I figured that’d make you willing to stick your neck out for me.”

  “You know I’ll help. But why not Carlos, too?”

  “I like him, of course…admire him. But I’m not friends with him like I am with you. It seems like too much to ask.”

  He sits on the desk next to my chair. “Gaby…why did Carlos start his school?”

  “Certainly not for the money,” I reply, given that all lessons are free.

  “That’s right. He does it to help the kids and help our town. So if he finds out one of his volunteer instructors is having a crisis, what do you think he’s going to do?”

  I nod. “I suppose it’s worth asking.”

  “That’s right. Tell him what’s going on, and let him make the call.”

  Miguel takes the afternoon off, and we hurry to Carlos’ garage.

  The whine of hydraulic tools greets us as we approach. Carlos spots us at the door and comes over, wiping oil and who knows what else off his hands.

  “It’s a little early for our class, isn’t it?” he asks with a grin. Studying our faces for a second, he adds, “What’s wrong?”