The officer aimed a high-pressure water jet at Leanna L.S. Ro-Cartes.
The massive impact hurled her frail body straight into the corner of the wall.
She shut her eyes, a sound of pain escaping her mouth.
After about four or five minutes of spraying, the hose was shut off. Two female prison guards came in, roughly dried her hair, and changed her into something decent.
"Damn it, move yourself. How are you going to see Chief Victor stinking like this?" One guard, seeing her limp like a corpse, couldn't help slapping her.
Growing up in a fairly wealthy family, she'd never suffered like this. The thought that a few extra words had brought on such abuse filled her with grief, and she couldn't help crying.
The guard glared and raised her hand. "Swallow those tears. Cry again and I'll blow your X to pieces!"
Leanna L.S. Ro-Cartes clenched her teeth, a kite in the wind, letting the guards handle her as they wished.
"Done yet?" an impatient voice called from outside.
"Done, done."
The female officers took her under the arms and led her out.
An EDM officer at the door glanced at her and led the way. As they passed into the prison's administration building, there were officers posted everywhere.
A Neapolitan Mastiff lying on the floor seemed to catch the scent of urine and feces in the air. Its eyes lit up, and it stood with a low growl. The officer beside it quickly held the leash and patted its head to calm it.
Leanna L.S. Ro-Cartes trembled.
Mostly because the dog's eyes were terrifying.
They climbed to the second floor to an office labeled Warden. The officer knocked and, hearing a response, pushed the door open.
The TV was broadcasting.
"Sonora strongly protests the illegal border-crossing by Baja's security department and will take all measures to protect its interests, claiming there are no traffickers in Cambra Valley, only peaceful farmers, and that those drugs were brought in by Victor from elsewhere."
Victor couldn't help laughing at the absurdity. He turned to look at Leanna L.S. Ro-Cartes, who shivered with cold.
"Miss Leanna, I hear the gospel you preached in prison didn't go over well with the traffickers?"
She had learned her lesson and kept her head down, saying nothing.
Victor smiled. "Where is Quintero?"
"If I tell you, can you protect me and my family?" Leanna struggled to lift her head.
"Of course. My officers and I absolutely guarantee the safety of any citizen. It's our duty and obligation."
Leanna nodded, as if resigned. "He's hiding in the presidential residence."
"??!!!"
The office fell silent.
"What are you babbling about!" Casare snapped.
Leanna lifted her head instead. "I'm not babbling. Why is it impossible?"
"His escape was pushed by Raúl Salinas. Quintero pays him $27 million a year!"
The news was shocking, but on reflection, not absurd. This was Mexico.
Magical realism at its finest.
A trafficker living in the presidential residence, eating breakfast with the nation's top shot-caller while watching TV put out his wanted bulletin.
Fuck!
Fucking ridiculous.
No wonder even the FBI wrote of Mexican corruption: "They spend every day wondering how to burn through yesterday's money, because… it's about to expire."
Casare looked at the boss.
"You can contact him, can't you?"
Victor could "see" Leanna's background and her ties to Quintero, but he couldn't drill down into every detail.
He couldn't tell what time Quintero woke or slept, how many lovers he had, or how many illegitimate children.
He could clearly tell that Leanna had spoken with Quintero the night before.
"Catch him, and I won't take a penny of the $20 million U.S. reward. It's all yours. You and your family can take the money to a safe country. Enough for you for life."
Leanna's eyes lit up, but she still hesitated.
"You don't have the option to refuse. From the moment you walk out of here, all Mexico will know you betrayed Quintero. Then your corpse will turn up in a fridge, a sewer, or the wilderness…" Victor ran a hand through her hair and said softly, "That would be a pity."
You can say traffickers are trash—but you can't say their taste is trash.
As a journalist, Leanna L.S. Ro-Cartes could put up a fight.
It takes two hands to clap!
"I'll cooperate." Leanna knew she had no way back. She could only hope Victor and his people would protect her.
"Very good. But no rush. Take Miss Leanna down to rest first."
The officers took her by the arm and led her out.
"Boss, you really believe her?"
"Bring in Raúl Salinas and ask him and we'll know, won't we?" Victor flicked his cigarette to the floor. "His brother's harder to touch. Him? Easy."
He'd already been planning to take out Raúl Salinas. The guy tried to buy off Best to nail him, and now he was tied to Quintero as well. Fine. Victor couldn't even be bothered to jot it in his little book.
He preferred to ask people straight to their faces.
"And if we catch Quintero, do we really give Leanna the $20 million U.S. reward?" Casare suddenly asked.
Victor smiled. "A man should keep his word. But sometimes a promise depends on mood. If I'm in a bad mood, she won't get a fart."
Figures!
Boss, you still want it for free.
Twenty million dollars—how could that just go to Leanna? With the boss's "hatred of evil," he'd definitely find something on her.
A woman sharing a bed with a drug lord—no issues there?
Victor looked down from upstairs and saw the officers escorting Leanna away. He blew out a breath. "Quintero. Raúl Salinas."
…
Three days later.
Back at the café on Paseo de la Reforma.
Best stirred his coffee.
Birdsong in his ears.
Brakes squealed at the door. He turned and saw two cars pull up nose to tail.
A pricey Porsche. Raúl Salinas got out. In back, a Toyota SUV—four bodyguards poured out.
He knew how to make an entrance.
Raúl waved from outside when he saw Best by the window, then pushed the door open.
"Hi! Best!" he bellowed.
Loud for a quiet place.
Best frowned, then quickly stood and waved with a smile.
"Got the goods?" Raúl was excited. He could already see the TV filled with dirt on Victor, his brother and the name to press him down.
Guadalupe Island was supposedly developing nicely!
Stick a man in there and it'd be a Salinas family "private asset"!
Best pulled a disc from his bag. Raúl reached out, but Best pinned it with his hand and looked him in the eye.
"Mr. Raúl, have some coffee first. No rush—he's not going to run, is he?"
Raúl relaxed, thinking the man was raising the price. He smiled and nodded. "Waiter, coffee."
Best checked his watch. The hands clicked onto ten o'clock!
The wall clock chimed. A wooden bird popped out and chirped twice.
Gunfire cracked at the door. Five masked men piled out of a van opposite, submachine guns stitching the bodyguards at the entrance.
They never even reacted before they were down.
Screams erupted in the café.
The gunmen even put rounds in the guards' heads—vicious work. They stormed the café and raked the wall with a burst.
"Sorry—robbery. Everyone down!"
Best hugged his head and hit the floor. His first thought was—
"Fuck!"
"DEM people are still so rough doing dirty work!"
(End of Chapter)
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