by A. T. Grant
“That bastard!” Gennaro’s neck and cheeks had turned crimson with rage and he almost spat out his words. “It should have been me who looked after Don Paulo, but he would not have it. He told me I’d be bored and that I was needed in the north. He said that you were a businessman, not a fighter, and that your brother was too much of a hothead. Eusabio took it easy with the old man in the sun, biding his time. As soon as Paulo retired, he must have sensed our weakness and awaited his opportunity.”
“How do you know it was him?” Luis could feel himself shaking, and slumped into a seat.
“We’re still not short of allies in Juarez. Your father was going to meet Jorge Garcia. Eusabio tried to kill him before he got to your papa, but Jorge escaped and warned our men. They’ve secured our hotel and are waiting for word from you.” Gennaro emphasised the last word, gazing loyally at his new boss.
Luis used pain to focus his concentration then spoke slowly and carefully. “I know where Eusabio will be now: on his way to Chihuahua. He hasn’t got the manpower to hold out in Juarez. He’s always liked the ranch and he was there recently, on his way to check our crops. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was also making arrangements for a takeover. He’ll make Rancho Morales his base and try to set himself up as a supplier. It’s an easy place to defend, as he knows the lie of the land. It also makes sense because of the airstrip, as he’s a pilot. If anything goes wrong he can use that to escape.”
“So how do we stop him, Luis?”
“You don’t - that part’s up to me. I can’t imagine he’s been able to persuade many of our men to change sides. He doesn’t know them well enough and I doubt he has the money for bribes. Fighting his way past our guards should slow him down. Give me two trucks and half a dozen people. I can be there in three hours. Get everyone else back to Jaurez, as soon as possible. You need to check every factory, every safe house and every family that owes us allegiance. Accept nothing but total loyalty. Kill anyone who betrays us. That will upset the police, but we can deal with them later.”
Gennaro was half out of the room when he turned and looked back at Luis, who sat grimly clinging to the arms of his chair. “You know, Luis, I thought I had lost Don Paulo, but I hear him still in you. You have his strength. When I talk with you it is like talking with your father twenty years ago. Now you have that scar on your face, you even look the part.” He gave Luis an appreciative and slightly sad smile. “When this is over, you will not need me anymore.”
Gennaro’s words echoed beyond his departure. This was not at all Luis’ intended plan. He did not want to be his father. He was not the man that Gennaro now saw. He thought of Alex and of their life together in El Paso. Where was she now? He should call her, but had no idea what to say. Trapped on the wrong side of the border, he didn’t know how to get home.
As Luis drove out of Rochas Blancas an hour later, he watched the figures disappearing behind him on the main street. These were ordinary people doing their best to lead decent lives. Luis wondered what punishment would be extracted by Xterra. Las Contadonas had brought war to their town. Some people might see them as heroes, but that view would change now they had been abandoned. And when the call came for help again, what would he, Luis, decide? Already he knew the answer, but he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself. Doing so would be a step towards accepting that Gennaro’s view of him was true.
The route became more circuitous, the land that bit richer and green, and it was beginning to rain. They would soon be at the turn for the estancia. Luis radioed the other truck, told it to hold back then drove slowly past the junction. Nothing caught his attention. A double line of cypress trees stretched up through recently ploughed fields towards the eucalyptus plantation that shielded the main complex of buildings from view. Luis gestured to his driver to turn around. He called again: they would meet up on the tree-line, but each truck should keep its distance from the other, in case of ambush.
Luis dismounted and marched into the wood. From the furthest corner he had a clear view of the gatehouse, a few hundred yards further down the track. There was a tractor in one of the fields and Luis could make out a familiar farmworker chatting with one of the guards, nearby. This doesn’t make sense, Luis thought to himself. Where else would Eusabio have gone? He turned and hurried back to the others.
“Get your weapons ready.” There was a bustle of activity and the sound of gun chambers filling. Both trucks broke cover together, speeding down the open slope to the checkpoint. Figures turned towards them, but there was no sense of tension or panic. Slowing down as they approached, Luis shouted ahead through an open window.
“Have you seen Eusabio?”
Both guards shook their heads. The farmworker waved and hailed a greeting. Luis walked forward, followed by three others, his right hand automatically fingering the gun in his breast pocket. He needn’t have bothered. A guard beamed at him and shook his other hand vigorously.
“Welcome, Senor Luis. Welcome home. We were not expecting you?”
“Just a passing visit. Who is up at the house?”
“Only the caretaker and his family. We were so sorry to hear about your uncle. How is your father?”
Luis said nothing: he had no idea what to say, or what to think, or how to feel. In all his life he had never felt so alone, or so in need of someone else to explain what was going on. He looked out towards the hill where his mother had died. He remembered the shock of her passing as if it had happened that morning. He could sense the emotional chaos that she had left, like gas churning beneath a marsh. It was beginning to rise and Luis knew he was in danger of losing control. He thought of Alex again, and he thought of his brother. Then he was relieved to feel anger. He addressed the two guards.
“I want you to get in touch with anyone in this area who has ever worked for us. Talk with our farmers too and anyone else who owes us a debt. Offer them money. Get them here and get them armed. In the morning some will stay to guard the ranch and airstrip, and some will come with me back to Juarez. Eusabio has betrayed our family and there are others who may take advantage of his treachery. Gennaro will be waiting.”
“What about Alfredo?”
“He is on his way home. Together we will destroy those who dare oppose us.” Luis leered at his tiny audience. Well aware what he must look like, at that moment he didn’t care: hate and revenge were pain-free.
Once settled at the house, Luis tore at the steak the caretaker’s wife had hastily prepared. In need of distraction, he turned on the giant wall-mounted plasma T.V. Doubt and curiosity drove him to scan the channels for local news. To his surprise, for the first time in several years, his family featured in an in-depth crime report:
“Police confirm that Felipe Contadona, younger brother of Paulo Contadona, long suspected of engineering much of the drugs and narcotics trade through the central border region, has been killed in prison. Officials believe that fighting between rival gangs at the high security jail outside the small border settlement of Rochas Blancas was to blame for his death, although no suspects have been arrested so far. Felipe was convicted of a series of extortion and money laundering offences last year. He was also implicated in the assassination of several prominent citizens over a ten year period prior to his arrest, although charges were later dropped for lack of witness testimony. However, some relatives of the dead believe Felipe was able to do a deal with state officials: giving himself up to police and admitting to lesser charges in order to avoid a murder rap. It is thought that this incident may lead to increased tension on the streets of Ciudad Juarez and elsewhere. Police say they are monitoring the situation. Chihuahua state officials add that there is currently no need to involve Federal forces, although these would be made available, if required.
Unusually, Felipe Contadona’s death has drawn comment from customs officials in the US. They have warned against another period of border instability, claiming that curr
ent uncertainty and security fears may harm trade and investor confidence in the region. The US Border Agency are stepping up vehicle checks in and around Juarez and report that they have already made several arrests related to both wanted felons and smuggled goods. Meanwhile cross-border commuters are left in limbo, unsure both for how long they will have to queue and whether they will be safe, once they have done so.”
Luis flicked to a classical music channel. He needed to think and began to pace up and down the room, a thick chunk of bread forgotten in his hand. The news report would have been officially sanctioned by the state government. Almost certainly that meant the family was losing its influence, which in turn meant someone at a high level already knew that not just Felipe, but also Paulo, were dead. The report implied criticism of both police and state officials, suggesting that someone was looking to install a new political regime. It made the family look vulnerable and Luis had no doubt that Paulo’s murder would soon be reported too. They were preparing people for his family’s demise and he wasn’t going to let it happen.
Luis ascended the stairs to his bedroom: it was expansive and luxurious, but had never felt like his own. As he closed the door again and shuffled down the corridor, he was overwhelmed with fatigue. Entering the small room he had once shared with Alfredo, he found both single beds made up. Luis tossed his clothing carelessly to the floor and wrapped himself in a space-themed quilt. Within moments he was sleeping like the child he would like to have been.
Gennaro called the next morning as Luis enjoyed a late and leisurely breakfast. Sunshine streamed in from the rose garden his mother had designed, and played around the crockery and glass-wear. The housekeeper was pouring coffee. The sound of gunfire on the other end of the line was so incongruous that at first it didn’t register.
“Luis, I am at the Catalina. Marcelo called and asked to meet me here. He said he had information about Eusabio. He didn’t turn up, but at least twenty of his men did. They opened up before we even saw them. They’ve shot up the trucks and we’ve lost at least three people. The rest are in good shape, but we may have to fight our way out.”
Luis studied a rose bush. So Marcelo and Barrio Fuerte had shown their hand. As they could suddenly muster so many men south of the border, Xterra must be pulling the strings. Eusabio would be with Marcelo, or possibly trying to do a deal with Xterra. That would explain why he wasn’t at the ranch.
“Gennaro, is there any sign of Eusabio? I think he is with Barrio Fuerte.”
There was a long series of expletives on the other end of the line, followed by a burst from a semi-automatic weapon.
“Gennaro.”
“Si.”
“If you meet him, shoot him in the balls for me, won’t you?”
“It will be a pleasure, Don Luis.”
“Don’t worry about getting your men out,” Luis continued. There’s a cleaner’s cupboard at the far end of the corridor on the third floor. It’s full of enough weaponry to start a small war. You will have to break open the lock.”
Gennaro laughed. “Your father always was prepared for anything. That’s why it took a stinking traitor like Eusabio to get to him. Barrio Fuerte aren’t going to know what’s hit them.”
“And there’s a reason why Papa chose Hotel Catalina as our base. Remember him saying that there always has to be a rear exit? Well there is. Go to room 307 - again you will probably need to break in. If you open the wardrobe doors, you’ll get a nice surprise.”
Gennaro chuckled incongruously over the rattle of bullets. His tone was suddenly detached, also unusually familiar. “Luis, do you remember when I would read stories to Alfredo at the ranch. You’d scoff and say you were too old for bedtime stories, but you’d listen to this one. It was called The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Do you remember, Luis?”
“I remember. You always were a good godfather. My parents chose well.” Luis’ tone was flat, but he managed to resist the urge to tell Gennaro to get a grip. “Alfredo is on his way home. It will be better for both of us when he is here.”
Gennaro mumbled something half audible in agreement.
Luis went back to business. “Take out the panel at the back of the wardrobe. You’ll find a small door. The code on the lock is nearly the same as the room: 0307. Through the door is an old public records office we also own. There are exits onto three different streets.”
“Fantastico. I’ll leave a few men here to keep Barrio Fuerte occupied then the rest of us will attack from the rear.”
“Any sign of the police?”
“Nothing, the street is empty. I haven’t seen a single vehicle. They’ve probably set up a roadblock at a safe distance, as usual. I shall ensure the authorities have plenty of bodies to clean up. They’ll earn their salaries today.”
“Do you want me there?”
Gennaro thought for a moment. “No, please stay where you are. The ranch is our safest base and, if we lose that, we lose the poppy fields.”
“Good luck, old friend.”
“I don’t need luck, just a few bigger weapons.”
Luis made out the first half of a barked instruction, as he touched the screen to end the call. He didn’t want to hear more.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tulum
The beach was dark. As the fire fell slowly inward, collapsing upon a pile of hot embers, some people were drawn in with it, and others lost interest and went elsewhere. The children had suffered the early smoke just long enough to sample the sea bass. Nobody knew what they had been up to since, but the occasional conspiratorial shush or squeal suggested they were not far away. The Tanners and the Morgans had volunteered to help Carlos move the canoes, after he complained that they had gone unused. Loud voices revealed that they had then headed for the bar. The remaining group was sitting either on logs or perched on the edge of sunbeds, pulled up into the circle. Discarded plates and a scattering of beer cans were pressed into the sand, filling the empty spaces. Cesar was next to Laura. David sat opposite, alongside Ethan. Marcus and Felicity perched none-too-comfortably on pieces of wood. Beyond the splash of fire, moonlight caught each ridge of ocean spray. The breeze had grown stronger, and everyone was leaning close in to the flames to keep warm.
“Hello.” Laura looked up and recognised the silhouettes of the Mexican couple she had met that afternoon.
“Do you mind if we join you? I fear we have been abandoned by our children.”
Laura began the introductions then paused in slight embarrassment, realising she could not remember the husband’s name.
“Roberto, my name is Roberto -pleased to meet you all.”
Marcus leapt into the darkness to retrieve another sunbed.
“Did you have a good swim?” Laura asked politely.
“Yes, but it was too hot for a picnic. Our children really enjoyed the football game earlier.” Roberto looked at David. “They thought you were really funny.”
David smiled politely, but said nothing. Laura picked up the conversation again.
“I met Sofia and Roberto after lunch, when I went for a walk. They’re from Mexico City.”
“Somewhere I’ve always been curious to visit,” Ethan observed.
“You should go,” Roberto replied. “It is really good for tourists now, although perhaps too cold at this time of year. The air is much cleaner than it used to be, and they have tidied up a lot of the historic buildings in El Centro. It is a very pleasant place to walk.”
“Would it be safe for us?” Felicity enquired.
“Always you tourists ask the same question. Mexico is a huge country, but when the media report on organised crime, it is Mexico this... Mexico that. Do you feel safe here?”
“Yes,” Felicity responded, “but, to be honest, I’m not sure how safe I’d feel if I wasn’t with a group.”
“And do you think we
would feel any different in Manchester, or in London? Mexico City is like any big city: there are a few places not to go and people whom it is best to avoid, but that is life. In the end, you either stay home or you take a small risk.”
Sofia, his wife, interjected. “We often host business clients from the United States. They are told by their bosses to come, and some of them are quite anxious. Roberto gets frustrated when they will not let him out of their sight. But you are different: you have chosen to be here. So what brings each of you to our country?”
Nobody was prepared for such a big question, but it struck a chord. Some reached for their beers, whilst others stared deeper into the flames. The halo of light shut out the rest of the world, creating a kind of confessional. It can be easier to share a truth with strangers.
“Well,” said Ethan, eventually, “I’m here looking after my baby sister, Felicity,” he half bowed in her direction and hiccupped, “who has had enough of men, but is scared there’ll be too many bugs in the jungle.”
Felicity stared at him quizzically for several seconds, clearly not amused. “Well I,” she announced, “am here because my idiot brother was sacked from his job and doesn’t think that I know.”
Ethan lost his grip on a beer can, catching it again with a splash just before it hit the ground. He was about to respond when David beat him to it.
“I came to Mexico because my girlfriend booked a surprise holiday for me, but I’m really here because I’m hopeless at making decisions for myself and I never got over the only other exotic holiday I’ve ever taken.”
Everybody in the circle leaned still closer and Sofia took the opportunity to put her arm around her husband. There was an expectant pause, but David said no more.
Marcus thought for a moment then decided to speak. “You know, David, Culjinder is not married. I know she’s part of a large family but, according to her, she’s everybody’s favourite Auntie.”