Read Online I'll Remember You (Hell Yeah!) by Sable Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sable Hunter
Ads: Link
directly to Mexican owned grocery stores. Hell, he’d even shipped some drugs by FedEx. There was no end to Esteban’s creativity or to Martina’s ambition.
Today, they were negotiating a new deal with a Peruvian supplier. He was from the highlands, Alvara Vilca. If she had her way, the deal would be two thousand dollars for a kilo of cocaine. In Mexico, that same two thousand would translate to ten thousand. Across the border in the U.S. the kilo was worth thirty thousand. After it was broken up into grams for retail distribution, the value of that same two thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine was one hundred thousand dollars. Martina smiled. She knew how to make a profit. And he knew how to transport. They were a good team.
The drive to town took over an hour. To pass the time, she thought about Aron and what their future held. Her greatest fear was that his memory would come back. So to alleviate her concern, Martina had contacted the smartest chemist she knew, a woman by the name of Emily Gadwah. Mrs. Gadwah was not a criminal, but she did owe Martina some allegiance. When her son had needed money for high priced medicine, she had received it from the Delgados. But for that boon, she gave the Duro Cartel invaluable advice when they needed it. And this time, Martina needed a miracle. What she wanted might not even exist. But if it did, or if it could be manufactured, Emily would know.
Upon arriving at the gates of the estate, the driver paused while the electronic eye verified their identity. When the heavy doors parted, four armed guards stood on the other side. Their headquarters was a fortress. A small army of mercenaries protected their operations. Some didn’t realize it, but this was no fly-by-night operation. Their attention to detail and high-tech procedures would rival corporations such as Amazon or QVC, except they were dealing in methamphetamine, heroin and cocaine, instead of books, jewelry or electronics.
When the car came to a standstill in front of the palatial stone building, she was immediately met, her door opened and she was escorted through the entrance and into a richly paneled office where Esteban and Alvara were awaiting her arrival. They both stood as she entered.
Immediately, she could tell something was wrong. Alvara was sweating and the temperature in the room was in the sixties. Esteban looked nervous. “Sobrina.” He held out his hand. Calling her his ‘niece’, he kissed her on both cheeks. Looking down at Alvara, he spoke softly. “If you would wait outside for a moment, I will discuss this problem with Diosa.”
She nodded her head, giving her permission. The man wouldn’t meet her eye. What was going on? Esteban walked him to the door and stood there while he was escorted by one of the guards to another room where he would wait the outcome of their discussion. “Okay. What’s going on?” She sat down and put her hands together, forming a point with her forefingers.
Going back to his chair, Esteban pulled out a notepad and looked at something he’d written. “Alvara needs to go up on his price, twenty-five percent over what he quoted us.”
“No.”
He held up his hand. “Wait. There are extenuating circumstances.”
“His problems are his problems.”
Esteban ignored her and kept on talking. “FARC has demanded he pay a ‘tax’ to protect them from abuse by intermediaries and drug traffickers.”
“The Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias are mercenaries. We can’t be responsible if they strong-arm the Columbians. Here in Mexico, we fight our own battles.”
Keeping calm, making his point, Esteban leaned back in his chair. “Bribery is part and parcel of our business. You are not as aware of this as I am, but we pay off everyone. One of the reasons the government tolerates us is that we pay a higher rate in bribes than we would in taxes. We own the police force, we pay fees to every branch of the military to turn a blind eye. It’s a fact of life
Today, they were negotiating a new deal with a Peruvian supplier. He was from the highlands, Alvara Vilca. If she had her way, the deal would be two thousand dollars for a kilo of cocaine. In Mexico, that same two thousand would translate to ten thousand. Across the border in the U.S. the kilo was worth thirty thousand. After it was broken up into grams for retail distribution, the value of that same two thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine was one hundred thousand dollars. Martina smiled. She knew how to make a profit. And he knew how to transport. They were a good team.
The drive to town took over an hour. To pass the time, she thought about Aron and what their future held. Her greatest fear was that his memory would come back. So to alleviate her concern, Martina had contacted the smartest chemist she knew, a woman by the name of Emily Gadwah. Mrs. Gadwah was not a criminal, but she did owe Martina some allegiance. When her son had needed money for high priced medicine, she had received it from the Delgados. But for that boon, she gave the Duro Cartel invaluable advice when they needed it. And this time, Martina needed a miracle. What she wanted might not even exist. But if it did, or if it could be manufactured, Emily would know.
Upon arriving at the gates of the estate, the driver paused while the electronic eye verified their identity. When the heavy doors parted, four armed guards stood on the other side. Their headquarters was a fortress. A small army of mercenaries protected their operations. Some didn’t realize it, but this was no fly-by-night operation. Their attention to detail and high-tech procedures would rival corporations such as Amazon or QVC, except they were dealing in methamphetamine, heroin and cocaine, instead of books, jewelry or electronics.
When the car came to a standstill in front of the palatial stone building, she was immediately met, her door opened and she was escorted through the entrance and into a richly paneled office where Esteban and Alvara were awaiting her arrival. They both stood as she entered.
Immediately, she could tell something was wrong. Alvara was sweating and the temperature in the room was in the sixties. Esteban looked nervous. “Sobrina.” He held out his hand. Calling her his ‘niece’, he kissed her on both cheeks. Looking down at Alvara, he spoke softly. “If you would wait outside for a moment, I will discuss this problem with Diosa.”
She nodded her head, giving her permission. The man wouldn’t meet her eye. What was going on? Esteban walked him to the door and stood there while he was escorted by one of the guards to another room where he would wait the outcome of their discussion. “Okay. What’s going on?” She sat down and put her hands together, forming a point with her forefingers.
Going back to his chair, Esteban pulled out a notepad and looked at something he’d written. “Alvara needs to go up on his price, twenty-five percent over what he quoted us.”
“No.”
He held up his hand. “Wait. There are extenuating circumstances.”
“His problems are his problems.”
Esteban ignored her and kept on talking. “FARC has demanded he pay a ‘tax’ to protect them from abuse by intermediaries and drug traffickers.”
“The Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias are mercenaries. We can’t be responsible if they strong-arm the Columbians. Here in Mexico, we fight our own battles.”
Keeping calm, making his point, Esteban leaned back in his chair. “Bribery is part and parcel of our business. You are not as aware of this as I am, but we pay off everyone. One of the reasons the government tolerates us is that we pay a higher rate in bribes than we would in taxes. We own the police force, we pay fees to every branch of the military to turn a blind eye. It’s a fact of life
Similar Books
