The Jaguar

by A. T. Grant

  “But how did they get to him, Gennaro?”

  “We don’t know that either. Money wouldn’t do it, nor could they have just leaned on other prisoners, as they are mostly our men. Whoever we’re dealing with was big enough to turn the prison governor, the mayor and the local police. That would take some serious muscle and a lot of organisation.”

  “Xterra.” It was Paulo who spoke. Once again he held Luis’ gaze.

  “Madre de Dios!” Eusabio exclaimed, looking appealingly at Gennaro.

  Gennaro continued. “Unfortunately, I think Don Paulo is right. They’ve been extending their operations inland from the east coast for a long time, and now seem to be opening up the south. What we don’t understand is why they want a war with us?”

  “Perhaps too many of their own border crossings are being blocked?” speculated Eusabio. “Ever since Calderon, our beloved leaders have been pouring troops into their territory. Violence begets violence, as our priests always say, but the government would never admit to that. They just want to keep the pay cheques coming in from our dear white American cousins, so they keep on stirring up trouble.”

  “Maybe,” considered Gennaro, “but a lot of Xterra’s operations are Caribbean based. They fly drugs into various islands. With all the tourist traffic it is easy for it to be shipped on to the USA. They also seem to be making money from the oil rigs out in the Gulf. We’re not entirely sure how. Perhaps they’ve muscled their way into the supply and distribution companies, although commerce is not usually their thing. If they’ve changed tactics then maybe they’re looking at our factories too?”

  Paulo held up his hands. “If it is Xterra then what they want is our poppy fields. Nowhere they control can heroin be grown. The coastal lowlands are too hot and dry. They must know how our operations have expanded into the northern mountains, now we’ve discovered a strain that grows well there.”

  Gennaro patted Luis’ balding pate affectionately then returned casually to his seat. “What I don’t understand is why they haven’t left us a more obvious calling card?”

  “Because,” said Luis, “they want to keep us guessing. Maybe get us to panic. If nothing else, it is a test of our strength and organisation. I was all for killing Marcelo, but you’ve done well, Gennaro. Killing him would have played right into their hands. Marcelo is still someone we can deal with and he’s obviously not just a tool for Xterra. If it is Xterra and Marcelo knows this, he’ll also know that he’s not going to get drugs from them. It would make no sense for them to buy narcotics and then transport them all this way. It would be too obvious what they were up to, and the Authorities would have to act. There is also no simple means of shipment.”

  “But maybe that’s why they want the poppy fields,” observed Paulo. “Then they’d have the local supply and Barrio Fuerte would be the obvious distributors.”

  “Perhaps,” sighed Luis. For a moment he sat quietly, unsure how to proceed. He was a good manager of people and a hard worker, but he’d never had to be a strategist before.

  Don Paulo again filled the gap. He looked like a care-warn pensioner, but the habits of a lifetime were not so easily put aside. “Now we need to do several things and we need to do them quickly. First, we must set up a meeting with Marcelo. Next, Eusabio should fly a team out to the mountains, to find out if there have been any signs of Xterra up there. Gennaro, I want you to do what you do best. Lean on as many people as possible in Rochas Blancas. We need confirmation that it was Xterra. Take some old hands: no punks; no amateurs. Go heavily armed and spill a little blood, but make sure you eliminate only definite trouble-makers. We don’t want the locals turning against us too. Don’t take out the prison governor or the mayor. We may need them later on. If we hit anyone too senior, we may end up dealing with the state or national government, as well as Xterra. Luis, we need to talk further. It must be the two of us who meet with Marcelo. Then he will know that we are sincere.”

  Luis nodded and the others stood up to leave. “I’m going to ask Alfredo to come home,” he announced, with as much conviction as he could muster. It was important to demonstrate his determination whilst Eusabio and Gennaro were still present. Both dutifully sat down again. “That is the best way to show the world that we’re not afraid of Xterra.”

  Paulo nodded his silent approval and smiled at Luis. Gennaro and Eusabio pressed their heavy frames from their chairs and took turns to kiss Luis’ and then Don Paulo’s hand. As the door closed Paulo sighed deeply and Luis could see that there were tears in his eyes. “Now we can talk of Felipe,” he sobbed. For the first time in many years Luis put his arm around the old man. He met no resistance.

  Some while later the conversation turned to practical matters. “Do we need to worry about the strike?” Paulo enquired of Luis.

  “No, it was just the usual sort of mess: poor management, rather than anything to do with another syndicate. I stopped by the family of the injured girl and gave them some money. That’ll help to smooth things over. We will put a new company director in place. I’ll get some people to lean on anyone not back at work by Monday.”

  “Nice touch, Luis, to visit the family. You’ve always been in tune with working people. We would not have factories now if it were not for you? I was never that keen. We only started so we had more control over the workforce. Then we just wanted to clean our cash. It was you who showed me there were legal ways for the family to make a profit.”

  “Thanks, Papa. I am proud of our factories.”

  “You know, Luis,” Paulo sighed, “you always were the best of us. You even have a wife who still loves you and one day soon you will have a family. Your uncle Felipe said you would be successful, even before you were old enough to work. You’ve proved him right. One day I’d like this family to be clean - to pay our taxes and stick to the law. To go to church on Sundays, like your mother used to insist we do. Do you remember that, Luis? That could be your legacy. That is my dream.”

  Luis said nothing. Getting up from the end of the bed, he walked towards the window.

  “Now that I’m old,” Paulo continued, speaking to Luis’ back, “I wish there were no more drugs and no more violence. I wish I was leaving you something to make you proud of me.”

  Luis stood still, fingering his moustache. As he did so he could sense the life drifting out of the old man behind him. He didn’t know at that moment how he felt about Paulo, his father, Felipe, his uncle, or Alfredo, his brother. But he knew how he felt about the factory girl whose mother he had met. He felt angry for her and for all those like her. The anger now helped him find more strength.

  “I’m not going to be the one who meets with Marcelo” he said, to his own image, reflected in the glass. “We’ll offer him a large amount of money in compensation for his brother’s death. Then we’ll wait for Alfredo to return. It should be Alfredo who meets with Marcelo. That’s the only way we can regain the trust of Barrio Fuerte. It is also a clear statement to Xterra and to everyone else that we’re not afraid.” He turned around and Paulo smiled, although almost consumed by tiredness.

  “I’ll call Marcelo and Alfredo now, but once I’ve arranged this I’m going to join Gennaro in Rochas Blancas. I need to show I can handle your side of the business now, Papa.”

  Don Paulo waved a weak, but appreciative hand. His eyes were almost closed. Luis stooped to take off the old man’s shoes and help him into bed. As his father’s eyes shut, Luis stroked his long grey strands of hair. Luis contemplated his sallow features and worried at the fitful nature of his breathing. For so many years he’d been fearful of this small but tough and wiry man. Now he felt sorry for him. He also felt something else, and wondered if it was love.

  Act III: New Arrivals

  Chapter Twelve

  Riviera Maya

  Laura was encountering her first problem. Her group was gathered around her again, this time in the arrivals terminal at
Cancun airport. The plan was to wait an hour until the Manchester flight brought with it her remaining clients, but Sharon and John Tanner were refusing to stay. Sharon, although young and seemingly robust, had a migraine. She sat, head in hands, next to a large pile of luggage, complaining she was about to be sick. John explained this would only get worse without quiet and rest.

  Laura tried to ring Marcus, but his cell phone went unanswered. The hotel minibus, together with a driver and guide, were waiting outside, but there was only the one. She made her decision: the five could go on ahead and she would wait alone for the others. She tracked down the guide and asked him to call ahead and explain the situation. Once they had gone, she could arrange for another vehicle.

  She stood in the clean heat of a fine early afternoon following morning rain and helped her clients to board. When she explained the hotel transfer would take nearly two and a half hours there were groans, but all seemed happy enough once ensconced under air conditioning, each clutching a bottle of mineral water which the driver had dutifully provided. Laura waved them away with as broad and as confident a smile as she could muster and retreated to the terminal. She decided to organise a taxi, then remembered there was a Carlton Travel desk on the Departures floor. She made a quick diversion to the Ladies to freshen up. A neat young travel representative smiled back at her from the mirror. She adjusted her make-up and cleaned her teeth, glad of the time to collect her thoughts.

  Marcus rang. “Sorry to miss you: I was in the pool.”

  “Lucky you!” Laura was surprised by her own flippancy.

  “It’s good to speak with you again,” Marcus continued, unperturbed. “I hope the past week hasn’t been too stressful. How’s everything going?”

  Laura explained the situation. Marcus confirmed it would be better to ask another hotel bus to make an extra stop, rather than rely on a taxi: his own recent taxi experience having reinforced this view.

  “I’ll be there to meet and greet when the first group arrive. When you get here, I would recommend a quick check-in and going straight to dinner. Your bags will be in your room by the time you finish eating.”

  “Where will I be sleeping?”

  “Don’t worry - you should have the same accommodation as the guests most of the way through the next two weeks. I’m sure you won’t mind that including a little camping?”

  “Can’t wait - Is there anything else I need to be thinking about?”

  “No, just keep the Manchester guests happy. I understand they’re a family group with two children, so we’ll have quite a mixed party. What do you think of the others?

  Laura reflected for a moment. “Hard to tell really - they seem nice enough, although I don’t think any of them know quite what to expect. There’s a guy called David who appears willing, but not very capable. He speaks a little Spanish, which may be useful. There’s a brother and sister who seem good fun and a young couple that I haven’t quite got the measure of yet: well-travelled, with lots of posh gear, but a little distant. The wife’s the one who is ill. She didn’t look the migraine sort and, between you and me, I wonder whether they haven’t had a row. Both were quite tense.”

  “All part of the fun, Laura: you never quite how people will react in unfamiliar circumstances. That’s when we earn our money.”

  “Talking about money, I’m assuming I’m going to get paid? I lost quite a lot, leaving my last job without working my notice.” Laura sounded rather more direct than she had intended: the traumas of the past week making it difficult to be easy going.

  Marcus didn’t notice. “No worries on that score. Culjinder has everything in hand and we’ll be reimbursing you for any losses incurred and for any other expenditure. Just give her a call, as soon as you have settled in. Whilst here, everything you spend is on expenses, so relax and enjoy the experience. If all goes to plan, you may be leading the next trip yourself.”

  “Thank you, Marcus,” Laura almost gushed in relief, “I’ll be with you soon.”

  Laura beamed at nobody in particular as she made her way to the CTG help desk. Here she was, basically on a free luxury holiday in the Caribbean. She appeared to have only the lightest of responsibilities and she was going to get paid well too. “At last,” she whispered furtively to herself, “life is getting interesting.”

  A tall, casually dressed, but nevertheless important looking European was holding out his hand in the main lobby of the Kalumal Beach Hotel. David swapped his welcome cocktail from his right to his left, shifted carefully forward on the leather sofa in which he was happily buried, and shook it.

  “Hello, you must be David.” Marcus waited politely for confirmation. “How was your journey?”

  David mumbled something positive, but largely incomprehensible. Drink, heat and tiredness were proving to be an intoxicating mix.

  “My name is Marcus and I will be your trip supervisor,” beamed Marcus. “You’ve already met my assistant, Laura. We’ll both be with you for the next couple of weeks and our job is to make your holiday as enjoyable as possible.” He turned towards Felicity and Ethan, who filled the remaining space on the sofa. “All three of you have your own double room here for the next two nights and you’ll have the same rooms for the last two days, after our adventure. We’ll all be meeting later this evening for dinner. You’ll get a call to let you know when and where. In the meantime, please help yourself to anything in the mini-bar, or to room service, if you’d like to eat sooner. Those plastic strips on your wrist mean that everything is included.”

  Ethan yawned loudly and Felicity giggled. “Sorry,” said Ethan, “it’s been a rather long day.”

  “I understand completely. I only arrived here myself yesterday.”

  “Do you mind if I ask a straight question?” Ethan did his best through a fog of tiredness and an increasingly dodgy stomach to look serious. “You seem to be offering a lot for the price we’ve paid. Are you sure there isn’t a catch?”

  David sat up and paid attention. Marcus clasped his hands together. He’d been anticipating this enquiry. “This is a new venture for us, and the only way to be sure it’ll work to everyone’s satisfaction is to try it out with real guests. With the greatest respect, you are our guinea pigs, but all that means for you is that we’ll really value your feedback. Just let us know what you enjoy and what you think could be improved. Hopefully then, we’ll be able to charge the next group a whole lot more money.” Marcus grinned, somewhat mischievously.

  Everybody responded in kind and Marcus took the opportunity to skip across to the Tanners. They were sitting on the marble steps outside, waiting impatiently for the land-train that would shuttle them to their room.

  David stood up. “Well, I’m off to take a shower and have a nap. I’m also curious to see what’s in my fridge. It sounds a lot better than the biscuit tin back home.”

  Felicity stretched and rubbed her eyes, badly smudging her mascara. “Sounds like a good plan. I guess we’ll see you again at dinner.” She struggled to extract herself from the cushions, levering herself onto her feet using Ethan’s shoulder.

  As the land train wound its way past garden-fringed villas and apartments, David gladly drew in the cool air of evening. Against the luminous light of encroaching night he could make out the first and brightest of stars. Low-level lamps appeared, scattered amongst the flowerbeds. David noticed movement beyond their corona.

  “Coati,” the driver pointed ahead and to one side. A large troop of monkey-sized mammals were rooting around beneath a narrow strip of woodland, chequerboard tails pointing skyward. These racoon-like animals only heightened David’s sleep-deprived sense that he had stepped into someone else’s life: that of a more confident and positive individual. High on the adrenaline of new experience and forgetting his tiredness, he wanted to get out and explore as much of the site as night-time would allow. He was going to get fit. He was going to eat more h
ealthily and he was going to make use of his smattering of Spanish.

  An opportunity arose to apply the last of these resolutions. The other guests had been dropped off at indistinguishable locations along the winding route and David was now alone with his chauffeur. He tapped the man on the shoulder.

  “Can you take me on the beach?” he enunciated carefully, in Spanish.

  The man stopped his electric vehicle and stared quizzically back at David. He broke into a broad, toothy and not entirely hygienic grin.

  “Of course,” he responded, giving a theatrical gesture of politeness. David was swept back suddenly into his seat. To his considerable surprise, the driver began to sing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By Moonlight

  An armadillo snuffled noisily around the fringes of a well-trimmed lawn, pawing at the leaves scattered by a thicket of tropical vegetation beyond. It snapped at a moth disturbed by its rooting and played with a beetle that scurried beneath its long front claws. Tiring of the game, the armadillo cracked the moonshine shell of the insect in its jaws, throwing back its narrow head to chew and swallow its prize. Then it froze, its nose searching for a breeze, before settling and padding further along the verge. Suddenly the leaves of a bush shimmered and hissed. A waking cat arched its back and bared its teeth. The armadillo sprang backwards, let out a child’s cry and jogged for the shadows.

  Laura pushed herself upwards into the steam, riverlets of hot water flowing across her shoulders and down the delicate cleave of her breasts. She peered through the smoking swirl as it was sucked upward into the sky, but could see little beyond the pattern of decking and the shadow-licked wall of palms beyond. The strange humanity of the animal’s call momentarily brought home to Laura the alien nature of this new world. She wondered what the hour might be. The moon was full and high, sitting sharp and proud amongst a flurry of stars. The sudden noise below the patio and the cold night air had brought Laura back from her heat-induced reverie in the hot-tub. She slipped gratefully back into the water’s embrace and pondered whether she should now make the short dash back to her hotel room.