Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Greed

“Nairobi. I have a friend whose daughter runs an orphanage for AIDS babies.” Tommy shook his head. “Boy, you think things are bad here, until you go over there and see what’s going on. It’s disgusting.”

Tommy looked over his shoulder at Matt, who was finishing off the final few good-byes. “How’s he holding up?”

“Better than I thought,” Nick said. “But he may be keeping it all in.”

Matt spotted the group and labored his way up the hill as if carrying a loaded backpack. As he approached, his swollen eyes became visible. He grabbed Tommy’s handshake and pulled him into a hug.

“Thanks for coming,” Matt said.

Tommy said nothing. He simply patted Matt on the back and gave a terse nod.

Matt looked at Walt, shifting his weight from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching his hands. “I need to get to him.”

Walt was the consummate pro. He let Matt’s anger stew. It was all Matt had right then and Walt wasn’t about to take it away from him.

“As long as we get this dirty bomb along the way,” Walt said.

“This Garza, is he hard to find?” Tommy asked.

“No,” Nick said. “We know where he is.”

Tommy jabbed the purple toothpick into a back molar. “Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, he’s in Mexico,” Walt said, making eye contact with everyone to get his message across. “So we can’t exactly barge into the country and make a scene.”

“There’s an election to consider,” Nick finished for his boss. “So we can’t be seen taking control of the situation. It would make President Salcido look weak.”

Tommy cringed. “What the-”

Nick held out his hand to cut him off. “Don’t,” Nick said. “This isn’t Walt’s decision, so let’s not make this out to be something it isn’t.” He looked at Matt. “We’re still on the same team and have the same goals. It’s just a little trickier.”

“So,” Matt said. “Where do we start?”

“We start at the bottom,” Walt said. “Find the weak link.”

“Won’t that take time?” Matt asked, glancing back at the casket, his mind clearly torn.

“Maybe not.” Walt pulled a small stack of fresh hundred dollar bills from his coat pocket and handed them to Nick.

“Is there something special about these?” Nick said, looking them over, then handing the stack to Tommy.

Walt seemed to wait until Tommy had a chance to examine the bills.

“Notice anything?” Walt asked.

“They’re good,” Tommy said, taking a single bill from the pack, then holding it up to the sunlight. “I mean, they could pass as real.”

Walt grinned. “Yes they could. In fact they did, until DEA made a cocaine bust in downtown Tucson last week. The drug dealers themselves had no idea. Even after they were booked. Do you know which smuggler made the transfer?”

“Garza,” Nick said, finally putting it all together.

Walt pointed a finger at him. “Bingo.” He looked at Tommy. “Any idea who made it?”

Tommy shrugged. “Not really. If we were back home I might know a name or two. You want me to make a couple of calls?”

Walt scratched the side of his face. “We don’t have time for that. There is another way. One of the field’s best counterfeiters is imprisoned right here in Arizona. I’m hoping he’ll help.”

“Who?” Tommy asked.

“Frank DeRosa.”

Tommy waved his hand. “Naw. You’d be wasting your time.”

“You know him?” Nick asked.

“Not really. I know who he is though, and there’s no way Frank DeRosa is going to squeal on anyone. For any reason.”

“Even if we offer to lessen his sentence?” Nick asked.

Tommy looked off into the horizon, deep in thought. After a few moments he said, “Look. The only way this guy will tell you anything is if I make an appointment with him personally and discuss his release.”

Walt made a sour lemon face. “Make an appointment? He’s in prison.”

“You don’t know this guy,” Tommy said. “He’s more powerful in prison than most guys are on the street. I make sure he knows who’s coming and why. It’s a sign of respect. You show up with your suits and yellow legal pads and he’ll sit there stone-faced.”

“So,” Matt said. “Can you make an appointment for this afternoon?” He turned to see workers in dirty jeans preparing to lower Jennifer Steele into the ground. He came back with both of his hands curled into fists. “Because I’m not sure I have the patience to wait much longer.”

Tommy pulled his phone out and backed away from the group. “I’ll do it.”

As Tommy walked off, Walt stared at a text on his cell phone. “We just got word from the operative in Mexico. That bomb is making it over the border in two days. Uranium can’t be brought in by boat, or by plane. It’s too easy to detect. So it limits Garza’s options.”

Walt pointed to Stevie. “Get a couple of drones set up along the Arizona border and have them transmit images back home for the next forty-eight hours.”

Nick looked over at Matt whose entire body was a tightly wound bomb just waiting to explode.

“You okay, partner?” Nick asked.

Matt shook his head. “No. But I’ll get there.”

Nick looked over Matt’s shoulder to catch Julie waving to him as she was escorted from the ceremony by two FBI agents. He waved back. She blew him a kiss.

Tommy returned with his palms open. “Mr. DeRosa will allow me a few minutes of his time this afternoon.”

“Okay, then,” Walt said. “Let’s get on the road.”

Matt grabbed Walt’s arm and glared at him. “You know I’m going to kill him, right?”

Walt gently tapped Matt’s hand. “You do what you have to do.”

The black SUV weaved cautiously between saguaro cacti and mesquite bushes along the Mexican desert. As always, Victor sat next to Garza in the back seat, staring at his phone.

“What does that thing tell you now?” Garza asked, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Our American friend has confirmed the presence of a spy,” Victor said. “Someone is down here working with the US government.”

Garza frowned. “That is old news. I suspect he is holding back and rehashing the same information. He is stalling.”

“Maybe he’s had it confirmed from a new source?” Victor said.

Garza turned to his first lieutenant and pulled the sunglasses down to the brim of his nose. “Is that what you believe?”

Victor appeared anxious. “I am merely offering options, Jefe. If you want I should keep my mouth shut and agree with every comment you make. . then that is what I will do.”

Garza replaced his sunglasses and smirked. “No, Victor, do not change. I sometimes forget who I am speaking with.” He returned his attention to the desolate desert floor under the bright noon sun. “Please, continue.”

In the distance a large, beige tent came into view. Two green Humvees sat parked beside the tent.

“Jefe,” the driver said. “Is this them?”

“It is them,” Garza said with certainty. “Stop the car fifty feet from the entrance.”

The driver carefully rolled toward the tent while everyone else in the SUV kept their eyes moving along the horizon. Finally, the driver came to a stop and shifted the vehicle into park. Two soldiers stood on either side of the entrance, their AK-47s on their shoulders.

Garza had the driver sit still while he examined the landscape. He searched for extra tire tracks signifying the delivery of more men possibly waiting inside. There were none. Garza did not make enemies. He was simply an agent of transportation. He kept the flow of product flowing freely from one side of the border to the other. The cartels were used to an annual success rate of sixty-five percent. Garza boasted nearly a ninety-five percent success rate. And that included the necessary decoys he would employ.