The moment we stepped on the bottom stair leading up to the front doors, the doors opened, and a late middle aged Mexican man dressed in light fabric of dark colors welcomed us with an engaging smile. He had a masculine and distinguished appearance, and I would have easily believed him to be the master of the house, with his shock of white hair, high cheek bones and the weathered lines of his face. His was the look painters search for to personify standard and history.
He introduced himself as Juan; the house servant assigned to us, and then led us to our room. Apparently, everyone who visited the Hacienda was given a room, even if they were visiting for a few hours. You needed a place freshen up, to gather your thoughts, to make notes and phone calls. It was rude, Kane told me, to make calls in the general areas or during meetings. If I needed to make one, then I should come here to do so. Also, there was a shower, and a room provided a place to change clothes.
"Mi casa, es su casa?" I offered.
"Exactly," Kane agreed.
"Why do I hear the echos of the Dread Pirate Roberts, then?" I asked, slipping out of my t-shirt to put on the blue blouse I brought.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Good night, good work, most likely kill you in the morning," I quoted.
"Ah," he smiled, "best romance movie ever." Then he glanced back at the door, "Probably because you have good instincts, my dear."
I sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little, and brushed my hair. Lowering my voice I said, “So, you’re immortal, but you can die?”
He paused, pulling out a shirt from a casing, which kept it wrinkle free, even though it was rolled up in his bag. He looked around the room, and his eyes turned bright silver, then they flashed with flame before returning to normal. He cocked his head then, as if listening to a sound only he could hear. Satisfied, he said, “Yes, but not in the way you think of death. Death is, for everyone, the cessation of your existence on the physical plane; in this world. In that way, yes, I would die. My energy would be pushed or forced to leave my body. My body would show no signs of life after that. Within an hour my body would … evaporate? Yes, that’s as good a description as any, I suppose. About a week to ten days later, my body would reform in the House of Inanna, and I would return.”
I’m not sure my eyes could have widened any further without falling out onto the floor. The number of questions I had bottle-necked in my brain fought each other to be first, reaching critical mass. The knock on the door could not have come at a worse time.
“Yes?” Kane responded.
“Señor, they are waiting for you in the dining room. Should I ask for a few more minutes?” Juan asked.
“No, gracias Juan. We’ll be there presently,” Kane said, earning a furious frown from me. He gave me a cute grin. “All you need to do is to think of yourself as the world, and you’ll have all of the answers to all of the questions in your mind right now. That being true, let’s get this done.”
That wasn’t true. That wasn’t close to being true. “See the world in a grain of sand?” I asked, with snide barbs in my voice.
A shadow of surprise crossed his features. “Yes. Yes, exactly.” Then he frowned, looked disconcerted, and opened the door. “Shall we?”
“It’s Blake,” I told him as I passed, perplexed by his expression. “William Blake? Poet?”
He nodded, smiled. “Yes. Of course.”
I wondered if it was just me or would anyone feel a cold chill to see an immortal that confused over a poetic quote, on their way to have lunch with a group of murderers?
Juan stepped into view and motioned for us to follow. Kane remained behind me, instead of beside me, and I could feel his thoughts churning back there. What was the big deal?
When we came into the dining area, Juan announced us, “Señor Silver, and his assistant, Ms. Stone.”
I paused, waiting for Kane to catch up, and when he did, he slid his arm in mine and walked me into the room as smooth as any prince ever had. At least he was back from whatever mental journey he took off on.
I tried to reel myself in, remind myself of my purpose here. I was to pay attention, not just to the Cartel members, but to Kane as well. His negotiation tactics were to be observed and then later weighed against the influences of his brothers. And then a choice was to be made of who was best suited to rule. Their destiny was in my hands and I didn’t want my naiveté to screw things up.
Pay attention, pay attention, pay attention, I reminded myself.
Feasting my eyes forward, I caught Juan’s expression then, and where his attention was — glancing up and to the right, I saw three men standing beside each other, with looks of disappointment.
Juan, in contrast, looked amused, but for us, not at us, as if he was happy Kane and I had snuffed the fun. Apparently, some sort of trap had been dodged, which was laid out at our expense.
The whole scene refocused in my mind; the courtly announcement, the setting of finery used to lay out lunch, the waiters, the three piece string players performing Beethoven, Kane and I both in jeans, but semi-formal tops. We were supposed to enter with clumsy steps, not knowing how to act in the social stage laid out for us; it was a trap. The three were waiting for the others to laugh at us, and instead were shown up by Kane’s confidence.
I looked to Kane, who nodded to me, and in his clear eyes I saw he measured the same result. He leaned in close, his lips a breath away from my ear. “Why do I have the feeling we walked into a trap?”
I leaned into Kane. “Look at Juan,” I said, remembered Juan’s expression and how please he seemed to see Kane’s confidence when he looped his arm in mine and walked into the room.
He nodded, and turned to examine him, then I felt Kane’s shoulder relax against me. “Nice catch my love, well done indeed. You’re a natural.”
“For what?” I asked.
“Power,” he said, and while I was certain he said this in a whisper no one else could hear, the word carried the strength of storm and thunder.
“The show is on. Let’s keep our heads,” he said after a moment of pause and then we were stepping up to the group of bikers in denim and leather.
I looked back, over my shoulder and found the three men were no longer in view. Juan too had left the stage. That part of the show was over. If I had it right, the play was to show us as ‘lower’ beings. Unsophisticated. Uncultured. Juan was the key. If the joke was designed by the master of the house, to show that these visitors were of no consequence or below him, and we did not fall into the trap, it could have been bad for us, showing him wrong in front of the men he sought to impress. But Juan’s reaction said it was not the master who set this up, and not someone Juan respected either. Perhaps Juan did not respect the master, but if that were true he wouldn’t have shown his feelings so openly. Juan did not respect the one who set this up, and did not fear showing his pleasure in our small victory either.
I didn’t have a roll card, but would choose for my suspect someone not entirely of the house, perhaps someone’s son or step son. Someone who Juan would feel was spoiled.
The question was, why were we the targets?
The expressions from the bikers said, we were in trouble. The leader, easily seen from the patch on his vest that said, PREZ, had an apologetic expression. He stepped forward, and clasped Kane’s hand. “I had no idea this shit was coming down man. I would have warned you off if they hadn’t taken our phones.”
Kane turned to me, “Ms. Stone, this is Baron, he’s the president of the Iron Riders. Next to him here is their VP, Lake. Sgt. At Arms, Speed, and the Secretary, Bull. I don’t know these other two gentlemen.”
Baron looked back at the two men beside the door, obviously in guard positions. “That there is Mike, and Tank. Good men.”
They both nodded to me, and I gave them each a smile. “Nice to meet you. Perhaps an overview for us, would be good before the others arrive. Let’s skip apologies for now.”
Baron lifted an eyebrow, and then smiled. “Hey, I like her. Good, let’s catch you up.”
Baron took us out to the courtyard, next to the water fountain. The base of the fountain was three feet deep and at least eight feet across. It dominated the center of the courtyard and produced a loud white noise which would make microphones useless.
Looking around, Baron appeared satisfied with the position, and then started in on the story. “We came down under the impression we were going to discuss pricing and weight. That’s what I told you then, and what I believed until an hour after we arrived.”
“When was that?” Kane asked.
“Yesterday, about this time.”
“You all came down stag?” Kane asked.
“No, no we didn’t,” Baron said, looking worried. “We all have ladies with us. I didn’t like the last time we were here, with the supplied women pushed on us. I was hoping to keep that from happening. I may have made a mistake there.”
Baron seemed to be implying the women were in peril. Possibly already dead.
“When did they get taken?” Kane asked.
“About an hour after breakfast this morning,” Baron said.
Kane paced a couple of steps, his hands on his hips. “When did they ambush you with this new thing?”
“Ambush, yeah, that’s exactly what they did. It was all good yesterday. Then right after they said they were taking the girls shopping, Cato lowers the bang.”
“You mean, Carlo Borrego?” Kane asked.
“Yeah, that little fuck,” Baron agreed.
Kane glanced at me, and then said, “Well, that’s one mystery solved,”
I nodded my head, like I knew this Carlo Borrego, but spent my energy in memorizing the name. He was our threat. The one who felt threatened by Kane’s arrival. The joker.
“So, what was the bang?” I asked.
Baron looked to me, and then relaxed in almost a defeated way. “Apparently, the last six shipments meant for us were all tapped by Feds and others while in route. Cato claims that they were the only shipments that didn’t get through. For the last two months. Nothing was caught up except shipments meant for my club.”
Kane’s eyebrows came together. “And they said nothing to you about this? How is this surprising you?”
“Kane, dude. We got our shipments. We got them on time, and as planned. I had no clue this was an issue. They never told us shit,” Baron said.
Kane and I shared a look, and I smelled a rat but not from Baron. Looking to Baron, and including the others, I said, “They replaced the busted product, and never told you a thing.”
“Exactly,” Baron nodded. “I had no clue that our stuff was getting busted. None.”
“Where were the busts? Which side of the border?” I asked.
“Well, from what they’re saying, I think it was all on this side,” Baron said. “But I don’t know for sure. They haven’t told us much at all.”
“That’s not good,” Kane said, looking back toward the dining area. “If they aren’t telling, it means they aren’t looking for answers. They already have the answers they want. Was Roano Cortez at the table?”
“Yeah, but Cato had the floor,” Baron said. “He’s the only one talking. Today anyway. Berto, and Lake here, were the main attraction yesterday. Lake did good. Obviously he listened well the last time we hooked up. Sounded almost like you.”
The VP of the club looked puzzled for a moment and then sluffed it off his shoulders like it wasn’t anything major — making me think it was seriously major for Lake.
“That’s something at least,” Kane said, with a thoughtful tone as he brought his fist to his chin. “Could mean that this is a bluff, or they’re letting Carlo make his case. What was that gang in Chula Vista? The one you had the trouble with after TJ in 08’?”
“The Loco 49s?”
“That’s the one. Alright,” Kane said, nodding his head, “Anything else? Any possibility that this shit is from your group? Any at all? I don’t care, but we have fourteen lives on the line here, this is not the time to be proud.”
Baron looked to his men, Lake, Speed and Bull. No one said anything, and they all looked at their feet, trying to control their anger, but not willing to go against Kane at the moment.
Baron looked back to Kane. “Honestly, I can’t see how. I mean, what am I? All knowing? How would anyone even know to do it? We didn’t even know a bust had gone down.”
Kane nodded, and slapped Lake on the shoulder. “Hey, I had to ask. If I get ambushed in there, we’re fucked. Right?”
The men thought about that for a brief moment, and then agreed with grunts.
Kane laughed. “Yeah, alright, still sucks. I owe you a keg. Let’s get through this first, and you can call me anything you want,” Kane told them, his smile bringing smiles from them. “Good. Looks like food’s on the table, and I’m starving.”
*
Our mission was not their mission, and our goals were not their goals. Back inside, Kane reminded me of this by walking up to the servers, and discussing music with them. There were five subjects he wanted to plant in the ears of those within this house. Subjects which were specific, with targeted words. Anyone other than the bikers were useful to inject with these subjects.
As his bond-mage, he explained to me, I would have the ability to inject these subjects into others as well. As soon as I saw him begin, I did the same, approaching Juan, and discussing leather with him — a specific brand, and style of tanning.
Just as the table setting completed, three women entered the room, Latin beauties each of them, all my age, and approached me. They introduced themselves, with the last names of Cortez, the women of the house, and explained the other women had gone shopping, but they could catch me up with them if I would like. To decline would have been awkward, so I changed the subject to my shoes. Using the energy borrowed from Kane, it amazed me watching each of them become fascinated, first with me, and then enamored of anything I found interesting — as if I were a rock-star. The deep interest in my shoes would have been humorous if not so sincere. Two of them even tried them on.
When they noticed the four men entering the room, the starlight went out in their eyes, and they excused themselves. I returned to Kane’s side, hoping I wouldn’t be pulled out of the room. The oldest of the group barely noticed me, the other three all looked surprised that I was sitting down next to Kane, who sat down at the middle — and somehow making it feel like the head of the table.
I thought about the women, and their fascination with me, and the mystery of Kane resolved. It was just how he was. In all aspects, Kane was Power. And power, no matter who you are, is attractive.
I recognized the oldest of the group, who took the seat at the head of the table, as Señor Roano Cortez, the head of the Cortez family. I could not recall the name of a single reporter – Mexican, US or European – who could say they sat at this table with him. Not for fun, entertainment, or business. Especially business. Just being here, right now, gave me a blank check. Now, what I did with this opportunity, would define the rest of my career.
It wasn’t until this moment that I truly understood that I was never in the reporter game for the money, or the prestige, or the fame. I played with those ideas, mostly to bolster my courage or my hope, when things were looking bleak or lost. I fantasized about my own island or walking into nightclubs no one could get into. When this story hits, you’ll have the red carpet, I would tell myself, while sitting in the rain as it filled up the fox hole I was squatting in.
Kane already showed me the transfer of ten million dollars into my checking account. I checked. It’s there. All of it. That’s a lot of money. Honestly, I can’t even imagine ten million, alright? I have trouble with imagining one million. Trying to imagine ten million sitting on my table at home, just didn’t happen. I had it, but it was not real to me yet. Hell, it had only been a day, but still.
So, I was rich. No argument there. Richer than I ever believed I would be. Yet, here I was, at this table, looking for the story. Either I was a reporter, or insane, or both. Right at that point, I was leaning toward both.
And I guess mom would have been right this time… I came looking for trouble. No doubt about that today.
To the right of Roano, sat Berto, and to the left, Nesto. Younger brothers. Berto was the one you didn’t want to go into a room with - psychopath by every definition you can conjure. He had no guilt, remorse, empathy or a soul.
Sitting at the same table as Berto, I found every story and rumor I had heard about his eyes to be true. His eyes were dead. Nearly pale, as if cataract, they gave no shine, no reflection, and no life. A milk film appeared to cover the brown orbs, giving his pupil an odd bluish hue. Every source told me that Berto didn’t have any type of cataract at all. None. It was just the way his eyes were. I couldn’t confirm this. It looked like death’s cataract to me. But I couldn’t confirm whether he was alive either.
Nesto was the youngest, and the most public. He talked to reporters. Hell, we couldn’t get Nesto to shut up. What he talked about was himself. That was the only topic he discussed. Nothing to do with the family, or the cartel, or even the movie he just watched in the theater. Nesto talked about Nesto. Nesto only knew about Nesto. Nesto only cared about Nesto. Until now, I didn’t believe Nesto would be at a sit-down like this, looking — hell, intelligent.
“Señor Silver,” Roano said, in greeting, “it is good to see you again. You look healthy. And who is this with you?”
“Señor Cortez, let me introduce my assistant, Ms. Stone. She is quite able, and well versed in many areas, though not so much in your business specifically. I felt she would be of use. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all. I enjoy beautiful, intelligent people,” Roano said. “The other girls have gone shopping in town. But that would be of little value to you, Ms. Stone. I’m happy you are here.”
“Thank you,” I said, and gave him a small bow with my head.
Kane told me not to use his power on anyone, though the temptation to fascinate Roano was strong. He scared me. This polite conversation shit scared me to death. I refrained. Kane told me if my life was in peril, to use it however I could to get to safety, but that was the only excuse for its use. I felt like my life was in danger. The three of them were mass murderers. They tortured people to death. They put bombs on children, and sent them running inside for their parents. They were monsters.
Kane looked down the table. “I’m told that there is an issue, which needs to be cleared up. A matter of a large sum of money, which the club is being asked to pay. I don’t have all the details. I would be happy to go into the courtyard if going over them again will be boring for you.”
“No, I don’t mind. It is Carlo who has the details. I’ll let him explain,” Roano said.
Carlo Borrego, looked a little like a ferret. His features were too close together, and his chin wasn’t really there at all. He had a lower lip and a neck. His eyes were fury, however, like he woke up angry and then looked for a reason. His appearance had little to do with the level of threat he posed. If he was at this table, he murdered because it was fun. I had no information on him, and couldn’t recall his name, but if he was here, he was a threat.
Carlo started to explain the busts that took the shipments meant for the club and the cost of those busts. “Obviously, it is on the club to reimburse us for these lost shipments,” he finished.
Kane shook his head, “I’m sorry. I followed you up to the point where it’s our problem? Could you go over that part again?”
Now I sat tall. This was exactly the part I was meant to pay attention to. Exactly the kind of thing that would show Kane in his full element.
“Each of the shipments was for the club. Only for the club. Each of them were busted and had to be replaced. No other shipment has been taken or even looked at. So obviously the problem is with these fucking bikers,” Carlo said, his voice on the edge and rising.
“You said they were all busted on this side of the border?” Kane asked.
“Si, all of them,” Carlo agreed.
Kane leaned back in his chair and looked deep in thought. “Are you suggesting,” he asked after a minute, “that these men know your shipping routes and timetables?”
Carlo came out of his chair. “Are you not listening? I hear a great deal about Kane Silver, and how he solves problems, but I don’t think you are taking this problem seriously.” Carlo walked around the table toward us as he spoke. “I think maybe you are not in the game here and I don’t like not being taken seriously.” And now he was behind me.
When he grabbed my hair, I felt the knife edge on my throat and was surprised that I was not scared but furious.
“I think,” Carlo yelled, “that maybe I cut this puta’s head off, maybe you start taking this problem seriously.”
Fuck you.
I didn’t see Kane’s hand move from the table, and palm Carlo’s head from the back. I only saw Carlo’s head slam into the solid wood table.
Kane plucked the knife from Carlo’s hand as he slid down to the floor in a crumpled heap, while Kane wiped the blade with his napkin, and then set it to the side of his plate, as if it were part of his setting. Then he picked the cutlery up from the platter with roast beef and sliced a thick section, putting it on his plate. He passed the cutlery to me, and picked up his fork. “I think I see the problem here.”
Roano lifted his hand stopping two men approaching from the door. “Si?”
“Yes,” Kane said, then chewed a bite of the roast beef. “Obviously you’ve been through all of the channels. You know who is busting the shipments, but not how and you’ve checked all of your men again and again and none of them are agents or under cover. Even your source says they are all clean. So, I won’t go there. If you say your ranks are clean, then they are.”
“Si, I agree, Kane. They are clean. But what baffles me is I have good information that the club is also clean. And, as you point out, even if they were not, they do not have the information they would need. But how could anyone?”
“I take it,” Kane said, after another bite, “there is some randomness involved, before the shipments cross the border, yes?”
“Si, not much but enough that unless you were there, you could not know what is going where. And you would not know for much more than an hour before moving. I don’t see where someone would have time.”
“Unless,” Kane suggested, “one of the drivers or shippers were dropping dimes.”
“But you have already agreed they are clean,” Roano said, turning his finger in the air, to sign a vicious circle of logic.
“Clean of being undercover or DEA or Feds, yes,” Kane said.
This gave Roano pause. “What is it you are suggesting?”
“It’s just a thought. Remember I just sat down, and don’t have all of the facts. But back in 08’ TJ had this area, and they had other distributors. Now you have it, and the club has distribution where another use to have it. The Loco 49s I believe. Yes?”
Roano looked to Nesto, who nodded agreement.
“I guess that is true,” Roano said. “Si?”
“It would be nothing for one of them to sign on with your crew, right? Hell they have family and friends all over this area. If they could show the club wasn’t a stable outlet, and then approach you at the right time, they could get back their territory, and be in with you. Right now, being with the old regime, they don’t have much of a chance, right?”
“If what you suggest is true, they don’t have much of a chance of living now,” Nesto said.
“Why’s that?” Kane asked.
“What do you mean, why’s that?” Nesto anger rose, I could see it in his eyes, feel the heat he radiated.
“The Loco 49s are willing to die to get into your good graces. What other play do they have? None. There is no legitimate play they could run that would attract your attention. No chance at all. So, they have — if any of this is true — made a ballsy move to get into your cartel. Yes? Is there any doubt in their minds that if they are caught in this, they are dead? Any doubt at all?”
Roano raised his hand, cutting Nesto off, “Go on. What would you do?”
“I’d give them some territory. Don’t mention any of this. Just drive up, tell them where they live and drive off. You’ll never have more loyal distribution on that side of the border, ever. They will fall over themselves to do whatever it takes to stay in your good graces.”
Roano sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Loyalty is a hard commodity in this business. It cannot be bought. I have tried.”
“There is the matter of the shipments,” tried Nesto.
“True,” Roano said, sounding uninterested.
“Tell you what,” Kane said, wiping his face with the napkin, and putting it down on his plate. “I’ll pay for the loss, if, you agree to reimburse me plus ten percent next year — if the Loco 49s have been everything I’ve just suggested they would be. If they turn out to be a problem, do what you want and keep my cash. But I’m sure of my read here, if this is how things have happened.”
Roano looked at his watch. “Juan?”
“Si Padron?” Juan answered, stepping into the room.
“Are not the women back from shopping yet?”
“I will go check, Padron. Just a moment please.”
Roano made a show of looking at his watch again. “I thought they would be back by now.”
And just like that all the tension left the room. I wasn’t even aware of how tense the whole place was. It was like fathoms of deep air lifted and the thinness left me giddy. No one was going to die. The women were probably shopping, never aware of the fate hanging over them. I still had the cutlery in my hands. I cut a slice of the roast beef and put the cutlery on the serving platter. I wasn’t going to eat. I would throw it up if I did, but I did my bit for show. Now, if I could just manage to walk when Kane needed me to, all would be well.
Oh my fucking god!