The Cartel 3: The Last Chapter (10 page)

“¿Si, señor?”
the elderly woman asked.

“Rosa, please take my friend’s glass and get him a fresh drink,” Felipe instructed.

Zyir never broke Felipe’s stare, because there was not a man on this earth who could intimidate him. He was fearless as he sat, one man against what he was sure was an entire Mexican army lingering in the shadows of the massive estate. It was clear that Felipe held the power, and by making Zyir wait, he was sending a clear message that everyone on the southern side of the border moved at the pace of the Garza family, including Zyir.

Illiana watched Zyir’s interaction with her brother and secretly admired him. In no form was Zyir bowing to Felipe, and his demeanor intrigued her. She was not used to opposition. No one ever had the balls to hold their ground against the Garza Cartel, but it was obvious that the reputation was not impressive to Zyir.

The housekeeper came back with a new drink for Zyir and then turned to Felipe and announced, “It has been done, señor. He is not in the database.”

Felipe’s mood immediately changed, and his callous expression transformed into a satisfied smile. “I apologize, Zyir. I had to make sure that you are who you say you are. I lifted your prints off of your cocktail glass and had one of my men run them through your country’s national federal database. All federal agents must have their prints taken. A man in my position can never be too cautious,” Felipe explained.

Not wanting to appear too impressed, Zyir held his cards, but he was inwardly pleased at how thorough Felipe was. “I understand,” Zyir replied.

“Now, if you two will excuse us,” Felipe stated as he stood to his feet. “I think I have wasted enough of this man’s time.”

“Surely lunch with me was not a waste of time,” Illiana spoke up, seduction oozing off of her words.

Zyir smirked and then followed Felipe into the mansion.

By the time Zyir departed Mexico, he had secured a new connect and partnership with Felipe. The Cartel was back on, and with the pull that the Garza Cartel possessed, it was only a matter of time before Carter was free and money flowed again.

As Ace stared out of the hotel window, he could not believe his life had come to this. Hiding out in northern Pennsylvania with no contact to the outside world was not what he called a life. Foolishly, he had tried to backdoor The Cartel and sell bricks of cocaine on the side. He had gotten greedy. Tired of constantly working beneath Carter, he had tried to expand on his own, but there was a reason why Carter kept him in the background of the operation. Ace did not have
the makings of a boss, and he proved that when he sold a kilo of coke to an undercover federal agent. The feds could almost smell the fear on Ace, and they took advantage of it from the very beginning. Once Ace revealed his connection to The Cartel, he became a pawn in their game to take down Carter, and like a true snitch-ass nigga, Ace obliged to save his own behind.

The life of a federal witness was not what he anticipated. He was forced to go into hiding until the end of the trial, and the detachment he felt knowing that he had turned on his former best friend ate at him. He was set to testify in court in two weeks, but the closer the date came, the more he wanted to change his story. He knew that things could never go back to the way they used to be, but he had come up from the gutter with Carter, and he knew that if the shoe was on the other foot, Carter would have never betrayed him.

Ostracized from everyone he loved and knew, Ace was living a lonely existence. At least in prison he would still have his family. If he had lived by the code of the streets and stayed true to the game, he would have been able to hold his head up high. He was a man, and no one had forced him to play the game the way he had. In his heart, he knew that he had no honor, and that he was causing the demise of another black man. He wanted to recant the statements that he had made to the feds, but he knew it was too late.

Even if he took everything back, the hood would know that he had flipped on Carter, and they would never forget. The streets had no love for snitches, and he was already a marked man. His only option was to testify and then disappear in the witness protection program. It was his only way to start over and begin a new life.

When we started in the game, neither of us ever thought it would turn out like this,
he thought solemnly as he reminisced over his early days hustling with Young Carter.

A knock at the door interrupted his reverie as one of the federal agents entered the room. They were his protection, the only barrier between him and the ruthless team of killers that he was sure Carter had ordered to find him. Ace was sure that Mecca was among the wolves coming for his head. Ace only hoped that they never found him. This was how he would live the remainder of his days, looking over his shoulder every second of every hour as the paranoia ate away at his existence.

“Here’s your food,” the agent stated as he wheeled in a silver covered platter.

“Thanks,” Ace stated as he sat down to eat his meal alone. Halfway through his meal, he grasped his throat in horror as he felt his airway become constricted. He attempted to yell out in distress as his eyes widened and he struggled to breathe. He stood frantically, knocking the table on its side as he flailed around the room, gasping for air. Sweat poured from his brow as his insides burned.

The federal agents burst into the room to find their key witness on the ground. His bloodshot eyes pleaded for them to call for help.

“Call a bus!” one of the agents shouted as he bent over to check Ace’s pulse. He looked at the food on the floor and concluded. “Secure the cooking staff downstairs. It’s the food! He’s been poisoned!”

Ace felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness as the agents rushed into action around him. The paramedics finally arrived on the scene and lifted his convulsing body onto a gurney.

“Please … help,” Ace managed to squeeze out.

“We are going to take care of you, sir,” the paramedic stated. “Try to focus on me. Stay with me. You’re going to be okay.”

Ace focused on the sound of the paramedic’s voice as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance. The man’s words reassured him, but he knew that this would only be the first attempt of many on his life. The Cartel had failed this time—fortunately for him, the federal agents had gotten him help in just the nick of time—but they would not always be around to protect him, and now that his location was known, Ace was more fearful than ever before.

The ambulance sped recklessly through traffic as it rushed him to the hospital. Ace closed his eyes to conserve his energy. It wasn’t until he felt the electric bolts pulsing through his body that he realized something was wrong.

“Aghhh!” He yelled as the paramedics shocked him. The voltage was up so high that the hair on his bare chest smoked. “Fuck is going on?”

Before he realized what was happening, he watched the Mexican man place a gun in the center of his forehead. He did not recognize the men, and the look of confusion was apparent on his face. The ambulance stopped moving, and the back doors were snatched open. He looked up and into the face of the devil—Mecca Diamond. Next to him stood a stoic Zyir.

Felipe’s soldiers removed their paramedic disguises and hopped out as Mecca and Zyir climbed in.

Ace attempted to sit up, but was laid back down by the butt of Zyir’s gun as it cracked the bridge of his nose.

“Zy, man … come on. We’re family. I swear I won’t say shit, fam. You don’t have to do this,” Ace begged as he reached out his hand toward Zyir.

Mecca scoffed in disgust. “This ol’ pussy-ass nigga. Where the fuck Carter get this mu’fucka from?” he asked as he aimed his .357 and blew a hole through Ace’s pleading hand.

“Aghh! Fuck!” Ace yelled in excruciating pain as blood spewed from his wound. He held his injured hand.

Ace knew that there would be no reasoning with Mecca, so
he hoped that Zyir would show him sympathy. “Zyir, we came in this together.”

“And you going out alone, my nigga,” Zyir stated coldly. His loyalty was to Carter. Any love that he had for Ace had dissipated when Ace turned snitch. Zyir figured that if Ace was willing to turn Carter in, it would only be a matter of time before his own name turned up on a federal affidavit.

Tired of the “remember the times” love song that Ace was singing, Mecca emptied his clip into Ace, silencing him forever. Zyir then walked around to the driver’s seat and put the vehicle in drive. He and Mecca stood as they watched the ambulance roll through the highway rails and plunge down into the mountainous valleys below.

They turned around and shook hands with Felipe’s men. Their connection with the Garza Cartel was already proving to be valuable. It was Felipe who had located Ace, and because of him, at that very moment, the federal judge presiding over Carter’s case was being paid off handsomely. Without Ace, the feds’ case would be too weak to convict, and when Carter’s lawyer requested a dismissal, the judge would oblige.

“Yeah, I know you’re a Diamond, Mecca. Me and everybody else in Miami knows!”

—Leena

Making the trip to Mexico the second time was bittersweet for Zyir. He was eager to begin their business relationship with the Garza Cartel, but he was upset by the fact that he missed Carter’s last day in trial. He would soon have his freedom, and Zyir wanted to be there to congratulate him when he walked out of the prison walls. He knew that his task in Mexico was more important, however. Carter had groomed him well, and he knew that above all else, the money was always first priority. They could celebrate later. Today, Zyir had three tons of cocaine to pick up. Nobody dealt in quantities that large, and with that much access to the product, it was only a matter of time before they were the largest drug cartel in the nation. Miami was only the beginning.

When Zyir pulled up to the Garza estate this time, there was no hesitation. He had already established a level of trust with Felipe, and was granted access with ease. He was greeted by Felipe, who stood waiting with open arms.

“Zyir, my friend,” Felipe said as the two men embraced briefly. “I have something to show you.”

Zyir followed Felipe around to the back of the estate, until they came upon two Mack trucks.

Felipe pulled up the back of one of the semi-trucks, and his eyes widened as he took in the beautiful sight before him: rows and rows of neatly packed kilos. There were so many bricks that they gave off a sparkle. Zyir had never seen so much work in his life, and the sight made his hands itch, because he knew that soon a lot of money was going to flow.

“There are three tons between the two trucks. I have the entire first shift of border patrol on payroll. You and your people will be able to drive straight through without being stopped,” Felipe stated.

Zyir quickly added up the total worth of the cocaine in his head. Three tons equaled three thousand bricks. They would easily go for twenty-five a pop, and even after splitting the take with Felipe, The Cartel stood to profit almost $40 million. It was a big payday for everyone, and as long as everything went flawlessly, there were many more lucrative deals to come in the future.

“Cat got your tongue, Zyir?”

Zyir turned around and saw Illiana standing behind him. Her tanned skin glowed flawlessly, and she hid her mysterious eyes behind large Dior sunglasses. Her voluptuous body was displayed in the designer two-piece bikini and matching cover-up she wore. Every part of her appeared perfect as Zyir took a quick glance, admiring her top to bottom, taking in everything from her pedicured feet to the seductress red stain on her lips. “Illiana,” he acknowledged. He kissed her cheek quickly before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Felipe put his arm around Zyir. The gesture was too friendly for Zyir, and he had to bite his tongue quickly so that he did not react. He had never let another man “son” him in his life, and although he was young in age, he was wise in years, something that Felipe would learn in time.

“I am aware of The Cartel’s recent financial troubles, so I
am willing to extend these kilos on consignment. However, this is too large of an order for me to just entrust them to you. I’d like to send one of my people to Miami with you to watch over my investment,” Felipe stated.

“That won’t be a problem,” Zyir replied. “We fully understand your position, and Carter extends his assurance that this partnership will be beneficial for all involved.”

“I’ll have to meet this Carter. My brother Garza speaks highly of him. After his legal affairs are handled, I would like to invite the two of you back down here. No business … just a meeting among men. I’ll have to show the two of you a good time.”

“I’ll be sure to extend the invitation,” Zyir answered. “Who will you be sending to Miami?”

“Illiana,” Felipe replied.

Zyir stopped walking mid-stride, as if he had heard Felipe wrong. “Illiana?”

“She will not get in your way. She will simply be my eyes and ears. I hope that you will put her up temporarily,” Felipe suggested.

Zyir looked back at the seductive Illiana. He knew that her presence would only mean trouble.

“Of course,” he said as he turned back to Felipe. Illiana would be a beautiful distraction, and he would have to stay focused on his hustle to make sure that things remained professional between them.

Carter sat reserved behind the defense table, completely confident as he sat poised and attentive. It had not been a good day for the defense. After losing their key witness, they were grasping at straws to keep the case alive. Carter’s defense was all over it. Beckham was definitely earning his keep as he
demolished the federal prosecutor, making Carter look like he was a saint, while discrediting the federal agency that had made his arrest.

“Your Honor, it is clear that without the key witness, the federal prosecutor has no leg to stand on,” Beckham stated.

“No, Your Honor, the only thing that is clear is the obvious witness tampering involved in this case. My witness was murdered in cold blood.”

“The witness was in protective custody and was rushed to the hospital because of food poisoning,” Beckham shot back. “It is on the official State of Pennsylvania police report that the ambulance transporting the witness lost control and crashed. That is how the witness died. My client, who was hundreds of miles away and locked in a prison cell, could not have orchestrated such events!”