The Cartel (7 page)

Antonio watched as his five-year-old daughter rose picking flowers in the garden, while he held his nine-month-old daughter, Felicia. The cherubic baby slept soundly in her father's arms. Lydia had gone into town for the day. Since it was Sunday, the nanny was in town with her family.

Antonio enjoyed this time alone with his young daughters. He loved both of them dearly. He did, however, want a son and although his passion for his wife tempered with the loss of Marta, he would soon suggest to Lydia that it was time to try for a son. He desired to have someone carry on the Espinoza name. Even though there was always the possibility that his only brother Emilio would marry and have a son one day, he wasn’t going to bet on it.

Antonio glanced down at his watch. His brother was supposed to have met him fifteen minutes ago. Apparently, Emilio had important news for him. What that news might be didn’t particularly interest Antonio, as what was important to Emilio was usually fairly trivial to Antonio. More than likely his younger brother had run out of money.

"Antonio." He heard Emilio's voice ring out from behind him. He turned around to see his brother descending the stairs at the back of the house. It was no wonder he hadn't married. The man was so good looking, why should he settle for one beautiful wife when he could have many women, plus he was still quite young. Emilio walked toward them. He wore nothing but white, his usual attire. He told Antonio that women loved the innocence of white. Antonio laughed out loud, remembering his brother carrying on endlessly about women and what they loved.

Emilio strode up to his brother. Antonio put his finger to his lips and glanced down at the stirring baby.

"Hi," Emilio whispered, running his palms through the natural waves in his hair.

Antonio nodded. Rosa followed closely behind her uncle while she tugged on her father's pant leg. "Come pick flowers with me? Please Papa, please."

"In a moment, mija. Your uncle and I need to speak first. Why don't you see if you can find your mama the prettiest one?"

"Okay, Papa," the reluctant child sighed.

Antonio patted Felicia while keeping a close eye on Rosa, and then asked Emilio what was so important.

"I received word earlier today that Simon Levine wants to meet with you and Javier."

"Who did you hear this from?"

"A fellow working for him down in Cuba. Levine says the Italians in New York are getting nervous with us running drugs down here. He claims he can keep everyone happy."

"Fucking Spics," Antonio said, spitting. He knew that no matter how badly he wanted to control the industry, the big guys would always be the Italians. They had laid out a lot of money to begin partnership with the Latino Mafia, and they obviously didn't like the fact they were losing some of their profit to Antonio’s group. He’d miscalculated their interest in drugs coming from his country. Simon Levine was a man who had his hand in all things that could make him money. He’d been involved with the Cosa Nostra to an extent, but he was also his own man. He did business with the Italians but kept them at arm’s length. Was he planning to do this with Antonio and Javier? Likely he wanted a piece of the pie, too. Levine couldn’t be ignored. He had too much power, wealth and was very connected.

"What are you going to do?"

"Meet with him," Antonio growled, causing the baby to wake up. He bounced her against his shoulder for a moment and she quieted down.

"What about Javier?"

"What about Javier? He'll meet with him, too."

"Haven't you heard?" Emilio cocked his head, looking at his brother intently.

"Heard what?”

"Cynthia. She died in childbirth a few days ago. I thought you certainly would have known."

"Oh, my God. No. The baby? What about the baby?"

"I guess she's fine. Javier hasn't let anyone besides the wet nurse touch her. He says he's to take care of her, and no one else."

"Ay, he's gone crazy. How did you find this out before I did?"

"I have a connection who knows somebody who works for him," Emilio replied.

"I see. Go to the house; tell the maid to have my bags packed and the helicopter ready."

"You're going there?"

"Of course I am. Javier is like family. It's time we help him. Besides, his wife needs to be buried, and we have to get back to business. The longer we wait, the longer Levine waits, and I don’t feel good about that."

*****

When Antonio arrived at Javier’s hacienda, the sun had set. He was escorted into a wing of the house he'd never seen before. Walking down the long hallway, he realized it had been designed for the children meant to occupy it. Along the corridors were painted murals of carousel horses and teddy bears. It was filled with pastel colors.

He wasn't quite sure what he would say to Javier and he hesitated a moment before following Lupe who led him to the last door on the left.

He tapped on the door and walked in. Sitting there in a rocking chair was his friend, with a tiny infant wrapped in a pink blanket. Javier slouched slightly over the child. To Antonio, he appeared smaller, older, weaker. He slowly looked up at Antonio. The grieving father’s eyes were lined with deep, dark circles, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. Dried tears on his face reflected a quiet vulnerability.

Antonio walked over and placed his hands on Javier’s shoulders. Javier shuddered beneath them. "My friend, I’m so sorry about your loss. I know that you must be in very deep pain." Javier nodded. "Please let me and my family help you. Come stay with us for a time. Lydia and the nanny...." Antonio didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, when Javier held up his hand.

"Isabella is my daughter. No one will take care of her except me." He looked at Antonio defiantly.

It was apparent Javier had made up his mind. Antonio respected that. Once Javier recovered a bit from the loss of Cynthia, he would come around.

"When is the funeral?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No.”

"I know this is a terrible time, but you need to be aware that Simon Levine is coming to see us."

Javier sighed, obviously not wanting to discuss business. "When?"

"Some time next week. Would it be easier for you if he came to Colombia?"

"I'd prefer here. The baby will not be ready to go anywhere by that time."

"I understand." Antonio leaned over and kissed the baby on her forehead. “She is beautiful, my friend. Like her mother.” He placed a hand over Javier’s for a moment. “All you have to do is ask. Anything. Anything you need for you, your daughter…” He nodded and removed his hand from his friend’s.

As Antonio reached the door, Javier called out to him, “Thank you, brother." Tears filled his eyes.

****

After a bite of supper, Antonio returned to his room
and reflected on Javier’s loss and of his own long-lost Marta, which kept him tossing and turning through most of the night. He had no idea where Marta had run off to, and didn’t feel that it was appropriate to ask Javier.

He got up to pour himself a drink when he heard a young woman's voice outside his door. "
Señor Espinoza?
" His heart skipped a beat. He wondered for a moment if it were Marta. He parted the door slowly, and there stood Josefina.

He’d seen her several times in the past with Marta. The two were obviously close. She wasn't pretty like Marta, but rather plain, and Antonio had no interest in her whatsoever.

"What can I do for you?"

"I came here to tell you something,
Patrón
," she said, her close-set eyes staring down at her rather large feet.

"Yes?" Antonio asked, amused that such a silly looking girl might have the courage to approach him.

"I'm not sure how to tell you this, but I don't feel right keeping it from you."

“What is it? I am tired.”

"Marta has given birth to your son."

Antonio stared at the young woman for several seconds. She did not look at him. “What?” He finally said, his voice raised as a nervous and angry energy turned his blood cold. “Is this some joke? I will have you fired for this. You imbecile!”

Josefina shoved a fistful of letters into his palm, then abruptly disappeared, leaving Antonio startled and confused.

Antonio sat down at the desk and read the half-dozen letters Marta had sent to Josefina. They expressed her deep love for Antonio, and the powerful effect his betrayal had had upon her. The letters clearly described the details of Marta’s experience crossing the border, and how she blamed Antonio for all her hardships. It was obvious that she never wanted to see Antonio again.

He was impressed with her perseverance. He never would have imagined that Marta had the nerve to go alone to the United States. And when she mentioned how much she missed Mexico, his stomach sank, knowing he was responsible for her leaving. If only he had been honest with her from the start, she never would have had to go through so much pain.

He’d had no idea what a strong and determined young woman she was and he felt a renewed yearning for her, a desire to go to her and comfort her for all that she’d endured.

His eyes raced across the words of Marta’s last letter in which she described her pregnancy and her newborn son. Josefina told him the truth. He sat stunned. He had a son? He had a
son
. The reality came over him, lifting away lies and tucked away emotions. Anguished, he cried out, frightened at the sound of the pain in his voice. He couldn't believe he had a son. The son he’d always longed for finally existed. Bittersweet tears stung his eyes as he dropped his head into his palms and sobbed.

The diesel fumes from the chartered plane gave Antonio an intense headache. As a remedy, he drank a few measures of Scotch before takeoff. Once under way, he felt the calming effect of the alcohol, and he let his mind focus on the problems he’d been trying to avoid. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not get over the fact that somewhere in this world, he had a son--a son he longed for but could not rationalize claiming as his.

The last few weeks with Javier had been horrendous. Cynthia's death had taken a severe toll on him, and the fact that he’d insisted on staying up throughout night after night with the baby made matters worse. There were now dark shadows under his eyes; eyes, which, at one time, were vibrant and alive, now contained an unbearable sadness in them, aging Javier beyond his years. Yet, Antonio couldn't help but admire him. The devotion he had shown his daughter was nothing short of miraculous. Antonio realized that the infant filled the void Javier felt so deeply. Antonio could understand this because he himself felt such a void. He wondered what his son looked like, how he was faring. He’d obtained the address where he and Marta were living through the labels on the envelopes. Many times in the two weeks since he’d discovered that he had a son, he longed to fly to Los Angeles and visit them, if only to hold his son. But he knew that the love he still felt for Marta, compounded by the birth of their son, could lead him so far astray, that he might never return to his family. He could not bring himself to carry out such a cruel injustice. His wife was a good woman and he loved her and their daughters.

So, he buried himself in his work. Javier's interest in their business and his own politics waned in such a short amount of time that Antonio had witnessed their operations slipping. At the behest of Javier, he’d taken over the production of heroin in their jungle factory, managing all phases of that portion of the business.

Heroin was such a strange drug. Why in the name of Jesus would people want to stick themselves with a needle, and inject foreign venom into their bodies?
Crazy.
Nonetheless, the Mexican Mud produced quite a substantial amount of cash, and profits were growing larger by the day. If the
pinche gringos
wanted to get high off the brown poison, it was surely none of his business, as long as the cash kept rolling in.

The struggle for power between the Mexican and Italian families was growing fiercer, and now Simon Levine had summoned Antonio and Javier, insisting that he was no longer willing to wait. Antonio was able to postpone the meeting for a few weeks, in the hopes that Javier would rid himself of his grief. The last thing Antonio needed was a bereaved widower on his hands.

Antonio arrived in the Bahamas and slid into the back of a limousine, which delivered him to the entrance of a lavish hotel, where Levine’s driver informed him that Señor Rodriguez had already arrived. Antonio shuddered when the man also mentioned sarcastically what a cute baby Señor Rodriguez had brought with him. Antonio could see the man’s white teeth glow against his coal-black skin as he flashed a mocking smile.

The massive hotel spanned a good portion of the picturesque beach overlooking a pale turquoise sea. Once inside, guests were dazzled by dozens of slot machines, flashing and glittering. Hundreds of American tourists, zinc oxide spread over their noses, poured money into the machines, passion-fruit drinks in their hands. The Bahamas had become all the rage since Castro had taken Cuba away from the Mafioso, but Antonio was a bit shocked. He hadn't realized the extent of its success. There was evidence all around that this city was fast becoming a haven for the wealthy and the high-stake gamblers alike.