The Cartel Page 22

  He didn't know what he would do now or where he would go. There was only one thing he knew for certain. He would find the man who had turned his mother into a wage slave and get his revenge. His mother would still be alive if the man who called himself his father had lived up to his end of the bargain, and provided for them so they wouldn’t have had to live in the dregs of hell, where insane, angry people shot and killed on the slightest whim.

  Alex would see to it that his father took responsibility. That man would pay for what had happened to his mother. This man, who had so cruelly deserted her, would pay for what he'd done. Alex would find him and see to it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Angered by his wife’s nagging and his own urgent need to get away, Javier offered to escort Miguel to San Rios. He thought he would also fly down from San Rios to Colombia and speak to Antonio about the idea of getting involved in the cocaine business. And he wanted to see whether Antonio had visited Bella while he was in Paris. He knew they’d recently arrived home and was anxious to hear all about their trip, especially any news regarding his daughter.

  The pain of hearing about Bella’s horse trials from Miguel still disturbed Javier. He’d drunk himself into a stupor afterwards. But Miguel and Pedro convinced him that drinking over his problems with Bella would do nothing to change things.

  Miguel took the bottle away from him. “Go to her, Papa. Make peace. She loves you. God doesn’t want either of you to be in such misery.”

  “You’re right,” Javier replied, slurring his words and glancing at Pedro and Miguel through glazed eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. But first,” he sighed, “I’m going to take you,” he pointed at Miguel, “to the convent in San Rios.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Papa.”

  “Shhh, now. Of course I do.” He held up his hand in protest, and then leaned back in the chair. He closed his eyes and murmured something about Carlotta having destroyed his relationship with his daughter. Miguel was certain he’d heard his stepfather say, “That fat, dumb bitch.” The sad thing was that Miguel could understand Javier’s feelings, and couldn’t really blame him for them.

  *****

  Javier peered into Miguel’s room, seeing him hug his mother good bye. She was on her way to visit the newest spa in the Caribbean. She turned around, smiling her artificial smile at Javier. He smiled back at her with the knowledge that it had been arranged for Carlotta to suffer a massive heart attack while sitting inside a heated sauna that horrifyingly enough would become too hot for anybody to withstand.

  “Are you ready?” Javier asked Miguel.

  “In a minute, I have a few more things to pack.”

  “All right. Pedro and I will start putting our things in the car.”

  “Have a nice trip, dear,” Carlotta said as she kissed her son on the cheek. “And don’t let your father drink too much, worrying about his spoiled Isabella.”

  “All right, Mama.” Miguel shook his head as she turned around to leave the room and shrugged his shoulders.

  Javier no doubt didn’t blame Miguel for his mother’s shortcomings. The boy would certainly be saddened by the loss of his mother, but in the long run he would be far better off without her.

  “Drive carefully,” she told Javier as she passed by him.

  “Of course,” he replied. He walked over to the edge of Miguel’s bed to zip up his duffle bag. “Have a wonderful trip yourself.”

  *****

  Susana sat in the dark. She’d finished cleaning up after supper and the cool air had the tendency to relax her troubled spirit. The church and courtyard were beautiful. The church was built of stone, and the courtyard had a water fountain where birds drank their fill and perched on the sides to warm themselves during the day. Trellis lined this side of the church where ivy grew and honeysuckle flowers sprouted from large clay planters. The honeysuckle was orange and yellow and she loved watching the hummingbirds buzz into the long tube of the flower for its nectar. Comfort was where she was now. Secure comfort—and although her painful past weaved in and out of her memories regularly, she was able to let much of it go while listening to the water fountain and gazing out onto the desert type mountains as the sun’s last rays cast a silvery glow onto them.

  She spotted headlights approaching along the winding road down the mountain. Yes, changes were coming as much change as there could possibly be in this little convent nestled against the foothills of San Rios.

  She knew that since Father Frances had passed away and Father Juan had replaced him, they had been looking for an intern to take Father Juan’s place, as he was being requested by a larger church in Mexico City. She figured that the visitors pulling into the convent must be bringing the new intern. Rumor had it that he came from a wealthy family. She could make out three men taking bags out of the trunk. Father Juan and Mother Superior walked into the courtyard to greet them.

  “No, thank you. We’ll go into town and stay at the hotel,” Susanna heard one of the men say. Something about his voice sounded familiar. The three men hugged one another and said their goodbyes.

  Susanna watched the Mercedes pull away. After that, she decided to retire to her quarters. She took the long way on the cobblestone pathway, hoping to run into Father Juan, Mother, and the new priest.

  Walking down the hall, she passed right by the three. “Ah, Susanna. We’d like you to meet Father Miguel Diaz. He’ll be interning with us.”

  The young man smiled at her. He had such dimples that could not only melt the hearts of grandmothers, but grandfathers as well. Susanna knew the congregation would approve. His eyes were full of passion, the kind she had rarely seen—not reserved for women, but for something more holy. It was a shame, though. She blushed at this thought and felt guilty. Those kinds of feelings hadn’t stirred inside her in years.

  Susanna lay in her bed that night feeling restless. Her peaceful world had gone through a sudden change, by a glance from a handsome young stranger. She reminded herself of what had happened the last time she’d allowed lust to overpower her. God would certainly condemn her for such unclean thoughts about the unsuspecting young priest.

  She closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep. In the distance, she heard again the voice of the man she’d heard earlier, the man who had dropped off Father Miguel. Her sleep was haunted by that voice until she opened her eyes to the early light.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  The fact that the coffee crops weren’t pulling in what they should during the past months disturbed Antonio. They had plummeted to a new low over the last few weeks, while he and the girls were vacationing in Europe. The States were going through a serious inflation, causing his profits to decrease, and all his mental wrestling had not presented a solution to the problem.

  Antonio hoped Javier had some ideas. He and Pedro were due to arrive at any moment. Antonio arose from his desk chair and paced the hardwood floors. Not only did the decline in profits irk him, but handling the delicate issue of Isabella with Javier was also gnawing at him. Javier had made it quite clear from the time she was a baby, that issues concerning Bella were no one’s business but his own. Antonio had respected that through the years, even when Carlotta insisted on sending Bella away. Antonio disagreed with that decision, and knew the effect it would have on his goddaughter.

  As he pondered this new situation, he heard a slight knock on the study door. “Come in, come in!” Pedro and Javier were ushered into his study by the butler. “I’m so glad to see you both.” The three men shook hands and then embraced. “Did you see Miguel off to the convent?”

  “My son—the priest is settled,” Javier replied.

  “Good. Can I get either of you a drink?” They both declined. “All right, then. Let’s get business out of the way. I have tickets to the opera tonight, but first, I thought we could go out for a nice dinner.”

  “Excellent,” Javier replied.

  “Is that safe? I’ve heard the streets around here have become quite violent the
se days,” Pedro said.

  “My dear boy, do you really think anyone is going to attempt to kill any of us? Are you kidding? I am this city. The people around here need me. They worship me. However, they will not for long, if I don’t start generating a larger cash flow. It appears that, with inflation in the United States, the price of our coffee and other goods is becoming so expensive that it has been necessary to lay off workers. We need to find a way to make more money. Any suggestions?”

  “I do have an idea,” Javier said hesitantly.

  “Go on.”

  “Cocaine.”

  “I don’t think so, Javier. I’m beginning to get tired of our illegal trade. It’s not so cheap to pay off immigration and the police any longer. Besides, I understand the federales are coming down harder than usual at the checkpoints. Emilio called this morning to tell me that a large shipment of marijuana had been confiscated. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy to hear it.”

  “I’m aware of the situation. I’ve already got someone looking into that for us. But listen to me. What little extra expense it costs us to keep the federales quiet will be made up in the quantity of sales we’ll be doing. Antonio, we have the means to grow prosperous crops. I say that this is our ticket to taking over where the Italians left off.”

  “We can never play their game.”

  “No, but maybe we can play with them. Rumor has it that Tarrantino wants to make some kind of deal with us.”

  “I don’t want to take on new partners—not after the Levine fiasco. The only reason none of us ever wound up dead after that was because the little mother had cultivated so many enemies, no one really gave a care. It’s another thing with the wops. They’re a lot like us when it comes to loyalty. Even if they hate the man in the hot seat, they’ll blow your brains out if you look at ‘em cross eyed.”

  “So we don’t go with the Italians. But I’m telling you, Antonio, there is enough in this white powder business to go around. You, me, and the Italians have no need to step on each other’s toes. I say it’s worth a shot, unless you have any better ideas.”

  “What do you think, Pedro?”

  “I’m with Javier.”

  “Of course,” Antonio mumbled. “Fine. I respect your ideas. I’ll think about this carefully.”

  “That’s all we’re asking.”

  “Good. Now there is something else we need to talk about.”

  “What is that?”

  “Isabella.”

  “Bella? You saw her when you were in France, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “How is she?”

  “Beautiful and smart as ever. Did you know about her important horse trials in Italy next month? Doing well in them will mean she will only be closer to her dream of going to the Olympics. She believes that she could go to Barcelona in ’92. ”

  “I did hear about it.”

  “Do you want to explain why you didn’t respond to her invitation? She’s very hurt.”

  Javier’s mouth flew open. “What? She hasn’t called or written in over a month.”

  “Not true, according to her. She says that not only did she write, but she also phoned while you were away. Carlotta told her that the two of you were going to visit Stefan during that time, because he’s playing in some sort of soccer tournament.”

  “That crazy bitch. She’s done it again—put another wedge between my daughter and me. I tell you, I’ve had it with her.”

  “What are you going to do?” Pedro asked, glancing between Antonio and Javier.

  “It’s not what I’m going to do. I’ve already had the problem taken care of. I understand that the spa she’s visiting has had problems with the steam room.”

  “That’s a shame,” Antonio said.

  “Yes it is. Expect to attend the funeral, gentlemen, sometime next week, and then I am going to go to Italy to see my daughter at her event and to heal from the loss of my wife.”

  “That’s the best idea you’ve had in quite some time,” Antonio chuckled.

  After the situation with Carlotta was taken care of and Javier returned from Italy he planned to bring Stefan home and start being a loyal father again. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

  *****

  As the three men left the study and walked separately to their quarters, Pedro felt elated that Antonio had asked him his opinion. Of course, Pedro would never go against what Javier wanted, but it felt good all the same.

  Pedro walked through the garden to the guesthouse, and he caught sight of a striking young woman glancing through a magazine by the pool. At first, he didn’t realize who it was. Then he took a second look and recognized Felicia. He’d never paid much attention to either of Antonio’s girls before. He was always too busy with Javier’s business. But seeing her for the first time in this light, Pedro couldn’t help staring at her.

  She must have felt his eyes on her. Felicia looked up, and their gaze met. “Pedro?” she asked.

  “Hello, Felicia. How are you?”

  “Good. Come here and sit down,” she said, patting the seat next to her.

  Pedro had had plenty of women over the years, but there had only been one he even remotely considered becoming serious with, and she’d left him after he made it quite clear that his business came first and always would. But this creature, although far too young for him, was so gorgeous that he knew he had to have her. The obstacle would be Antonio.

  “You’ll be going to the opera with us this evening. No?” she asked.

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “Excellent. I love the opera, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “I mean, it’s so romantic and full of drama.”

  “It is.” He smiled.

  “I suppose I should start getting ready,” she said. She stood and wrapped a colorful sarong around her bikini. She turned around and winked at him as she headed for the house.

  Pedro fell back into the lounge chair, letting out a loud sigh. He knew this was one woman not soon forgotten.

  *****

  The warm water felt good on Antonio’s skin, showering for the evening’s festivities, thinking that perhaps Javier’s suggestion about the cocaine business was not such a bad idea, after all. He really wasn’t interested in getting more involved in the distribution of drugs. Yet he knew that going legitimate was impossible. He hadn’t even been able to do it for the one woman he’d never stopped loving.

  Antonio wished he’d insisted on being a part of Alejandro’s life. Now Alejandro would be a young man. Even if Antonio decided to come back into his son’s life, would Alejandro let him? After all, the boy believed his father was dead. Marta had seen to that. The thought broke his heart each time it came to mind.

  He dressed, noticing his reflection in the mirror. Age had set in around his eyes, and his hair loss had become more prevalent in recent years. He hated the idea of getting old, and growing old alone sounded even worse. But he would be damned before he would beg Marta to come back to him, especially after all this time.

  “Papa, the car is out front,” Felicia yelled into his room.

  “Be right there.”

  As they moved into the back seat of the limousine, Antonio noticed his youngest daughter’s low-cut, red dress. Rosa at least had the good sense to wear something elegant, black and simple. But Felicia looked to be flaunting. He wanted to yell at her to go back into the house and change. However, it was not worth the shame he knew that would cause her.

  Antonio also observed that Pedro’s eyes kept resting on his youngest daughter. He would make certain he spoke to Javier about reminding this renegade adopted son of his to stay away from Felicia. Throughout dinner Antonio remained quiet, watching the interaction between these two. They were flirting, but not so overtly that anyone would notice, except an overly protective father.

  “I almost forgot, Antonio,” Javier said. “This letter came for you to my house this week.” Javier pulled a small envelope out of his coat pocket.

 
“Why would someone send your mail to Javier’s house?” Rosa asked.

  Antonio fumbled for an answer, knowing there was only one reason anyone would send his mail to Javier’s. It would have to be from Marta. “Maybe they lost our address and know how close I am with Javier,” he replied.

  Rosa looked at him queerly, eyebrows raised. Antonio stuck the letter inside his coat. “Aren’t you going to read it, Papa?”

  “No, not now. It’s time to go.”

  Once they had taken their seats inside the opera house, Antonio excused himself, retreating to the lobby. He pulled the letter from his coat pocket, and with trembling hands, looked for the return address. There was none. His heart sank once he opened it and read the contents of the letter. While his eyes scanned the handwritten words, tears fell down his cheeks.