Rojas’s tone turned more harsh, the words clearly a threat. “I look forward to hearing from you very soon.”
“You will. Oh, and one more item. We have a valuable intelligence asset that might be of interest, an American CIA agent who now works for us. I’ll be happy to provide any information he gathers that might affect our businesses. In the meantime, I implore you to keep the product flowing. Do not do anything rash. The dog, as you say, is still asleep, and we will keep him that way.”
“Find Samad. Then call me.” With that, Rojas thumbed off the phone and looked to the doorway, where Fernando Castillo was waiting.
“Good morning. J.C. has breakfast ready.”
“Thank you, Fernando. I didn’t realize you were the house butler, too.”
“No, sir. I actually came for something else — two things, in fact …” He took a deep breath and his gaze found the rug.
“What?”
“There was an explosion down in San Martín Texmelucan.”
“The pipeline?”
He nodded. “About fifty people killed. The Zetas ignored our warnings again, and they’re still at it.”
The Gulf Cartel’s gang of sicarios, Los Zetas, had been engaged in tapping into and stealing oil from Pemex, the state-owned and state-run petroleum company. The president of Mexico had come to Rojas for advice and assistance, and while Rojas denied having any direct contact with the cartel, he’d donated money to help bolster local law enforcement and Pemex security in the most vulnerable areas. Meanwhile, Rojas had Castillo contact the Zetas and warn them about further taps. In the current year alone they’d stolen more than nine thousand barrels, enough to fill more than forty tanker trucks. They sold the fuel through their own gas stations and trucking firms, which they’d already established to launder money, as well as selling it on the international black market. Much of that fuel ended up in the United States. Sometimes they mixed stolen fuel with legitimately purchased product to make extra profit. Castillo had often spoken about taking over the Zetas’ operation and enjoying some significant cash flow. While it was true that Rojas gave to the government with one hand and stole from it with the other, jeopardizing the financial stability of the country’s main oil supplier was shortsighted and reckless. Moreover, the operation was much too risky and sloppily run. The current explosion only underscored his reservations.
Rojas swore and glanced away in thought. “Call your friend. Tell him if the Zetas don’t stop their taps, then we’re coming to secure the pipeline on behalf of the government.”
“I will,” said Castillo.
“Now, what about the tunnel we lost?”
“We’ll fill in the hole from our side, deny any knowledge of it being in the warehouse, and set up one of the subcontractors to take the fall. I’m already searching for a new engineer and a new tunnel site, but we lost a lot of money there. I hope you understand that destroying it was the right thing to do.”
“Of course, Fernando. You’ve never let me down.”
Castillo grinned mildly, then walked over to Rojas’s desk and slipped a small digital voice recorder from behind one of the many framed photos there. “I received an alert about an unauthorized device in your office. This is the other reason why I’m here.”
“Miguel?”
Castillo nodded.
Rojas mulled over what to do, then blurted out, “Just erase it. And leave it there …”
With a hollow feeling in his stomach, Rojas left the office and padded in his robe toward the kitchen, where at least one thing brought happiness: the sweet aroma of huevos rancheros.
Sonia was staring through the bedroom window, out across the stones of the mansion’s driveway and toward the street below. Miguel came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “You smell good,” he said.
“So do you. Are we going to the waterfall today?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You promised. And I was thinking about that resort and spa you told me about — Misión del Sol. We could get massages, and I want to get a pedicure. Then we could stay overnight, do something really romantic. I think we need that.”
Miguel felt the tension pass into his shoulders, as though someone were fastening heavy leather belts around him and tightening them slowly, one hole at a time. “I’m not feeling so good.”
She pulled out of his grip to face him. She studied his eyes, placed her palm on his forehead, and stared at him with pouty lips, a sad little girl. “No fever.”
“It’s not that. Look at this.” He pulled the device from his hip pocket.
“A new phone?”
“It’s a digital voice recorder. I put it in my father’s office last night and I just went in there and got it out. He always makes a lot of calls in the mornings. You know, I’ve thought about doing it for years. He lied to me when we were down in the vault. He lied. I know it. And he doesn’t want me to know, because he’s afraid of what I’ll think of him.”
“Have you listened to it yet?”
“No. I’m afraid.”
She crossed over to the bedroom door and shut it. “It’s okay. You want me to be with you?”
“Yeah.”
They sat on the bed, and he took a deep breath. He hit the play button. Nothing.
“Is it broken?”
“No. And it worked. I know it did.”
“Maybe he found it.”
“Yeah, and if there was anything on there, he erased it, because he doesn’t want to confront me on this.”
“I’m sorry.”
Miguel’s breath quickened. “He has to be hiding something.”
Sonia made a face. “Your father’s not a drug dealer. You keep forgetting all he’s done for Mexico. If he has to deal with the drug cartels — you know, manipulate them, navigate around them — then you should understand that.”
“I don’t think he’s manipulating the drug cartels. I think he is them.”
“You’re not listening to me. My father has to do very similar things in his business. There are dealers and manufacturers that are always giving him trouble. Cyclists who take drugs and get busted for that, sponsorships that my father has to cancel. This is the world of business, and you should accept that sometimes things need to be done — because one day you’ll inherit much more than the money. You’ll inherit the commitment, and that, I’m sure, is what your father wants. Maybe he’s trying to protect you from the dirty side of things, but business nowadays is not clean. It’s not.”
“You talk a lot today.”
“Only because I care.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
“So what if you’re right? What if your father is the cartel? And then they arrest him. What will you do?”
“Kill myself.”
“That’s not the answer, you know that. You’d go on because you’re a much stronger man than you know.”
Miguel took the digital recorder, opened a dresser drawer, and tossed it inside. “I don’t know what I am.”
She rolled her eyes at his gloomy tone and remark, glanced away, then faced him once more. “So next week you’ll start your summer job at Banorte. That’ll get your mind off all this.”
He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Oh, just do it. We’ll move together to California in the fall, and everything will be perfect.”
“Now you sound almost sad about that.”
Her lips tightened. “I’ll just miss my family.”
He pulled her into his chest. “We’ll visit them as much as we can …” Miguel’s phone vibrated. “That’s a text from the kitchen. J.C. says the eggs are getting cold. Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Neither am I. Let’s leave now. We’ll get some coffee on the road. I don’t feel like looking at my father right now.”