Russell Blake - Revenge of the Assassin

Not surprisingly, well-publicized efforts to bring down the number-one drug lord in the world had all failed. Aranas was incredibly resilient, having even escaped from a maximum security prison when he’d been apprehended in the early Nineties. While details were murky, as were most facts surrounding him, legend had it that Aranas had co-opted everyone in the prison, from the head of security on down, and on the day of his escape had simply hidden in a laundry cart pushed by the director of the guard shift, who had been thoughtful enough to then drive him to a nearby dirt airstrip, where a twin engine King Air prop plane had winged him to points unknown.

The total revenue of the Mexican drug cartels was a hotly disputed topic, with no agreement. For understandable reasons, hard numbers were difficult to come by. Some estimates placed the number at twenty billion. Others at fifty billion. Reality was that both numbers were laughably low, and that between all the cartels the real revenue number was closer to a hundred billion a year, wholesale.

Officials in the U.S. tried to downplay the number, as they did with virtually all statistics, preferring to massage them for their own devices. Just as unemployment was officially pegged in the eight to nine percent range through elaborate sleight of hand, and the GDP number was inflated by accounting hijinks, so too was the scale of the illegal drug business. Most experts privately agreed that the true ultimate street value of all drugs that passed from Mexico into the U.S. was closer to three hundred billion dollars a year, with two thirds of that sticking to the American side as the drugs were cut and distributed from the large wholesale distribution points and passed down to the street level dealers. Regardless of whose numbers one believed, the glaringly obvious fact was that, for whatever reason, the top man in the world was invisible to all law enforcement authorities and passed across national borders without hindrance.

Three deck hands cleaned the hull of one of the larger ship’s tenders — a thirty-two-foot Cabo Express Aranas liked to use for fishing, which was mounted across the rear of the yacht’s second-story deck, leaving the first free for entertaining. A massive crane swung the boat over the side and into the water whenever he was in the mood to use it to explore shallower waters for elusive game fish.

Aranas was almost sixty years old, which made him ancient in the drug business. Most of his rivals and peers had long since expired or had been incarcerated, and yet Don Aranas enjoyed glowing good health and virtually limitless prosperity. The ship was furnished with a fully-equipped gymnasium, and Aranas made a habit of taking an hour of exercise at least five days a week. What was the point of becoming one of the wealthiest men in the world if you threw it away with a sedentary lifestyle and poor habits, he reasoned. His intention was to live to a ripe old age, confounding his enemies and pursuers in the process. So far, the odds favored him. No photograph existed that was more current than twenty years old, and he no more resembled the images circulated of him than did his captain — a state of affairs he encouraged.

His nephew, Javier, approached him in the lower salon, where he was watching a DVD on the seventy-five-inch plasma screen television, and wordlessly handed him a small cell phone. He stared at it momentarily, and then nodded to Javier, who discreetly departed. Aranas muted the volume and paused the film, and the only sound was the almost imperceptible hum of the twin diesel power plants two stories below him.

“Yes,” he said into the phone.

“ Don Aranas. I apologize for terminating several of your men in Argentina. I did so before knowing who they were or what their errand was.”

“It is of no consequence. They should have been more careful.”

“Yes. Well, I have given your request considerable thought, and I think it would be worth meeting to have a more meaningful discussion,” El Rey said.

“That’s a problem. I don’t meet. Anyone. Ever.”

“I understand, however I don’t come out of retirement ever , either. If you want me to do something I never do, I think that we all need to be prepared to make concessions. Would you not agree?”

Aranas’ anger flashed to the surface for a moment, but he quickly won the struggle to control it. He needed El Rey . These were unusual times. Perhaps flexibility was in order.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Did you receive my message about my fee?”

“Yes, yes. I have no problem with it, although for that amount of money, success had better be guaranteed. I heard about your adventure in Baja. That sort of outcome isn’t an option,” Aranas warned.

“That was the only instance of a failure in an otherwise exemplary career, and frankly it would have been rectified if the client had still been around to pursue it. As things worked out, it wasn’t a priority any longer, so it seemed more prudent to remove myself from the equation,” El Rey explained.

“You insist on a meeting. Again, what do you have in mind?”

“It must be only you and me. Nobody else. Just as you value your privacy, so do I. And it won’t be for three weeks. I have other matters that must be attended to before I can meet. I’ll call this number again on the twenty-fifth, at this time. Then we can arrange to get together somewhere both of us can be assured is safe. Will that work for you?”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Yes. I understand. The alternative, of course, is that we don’t meet, and you never hear of me again. I trust you’ll still be able to solve whatever problem that is so pressing you needed my services above all others?” El Rey suggested.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, my friend,” Aranas warned, his patience at an end.

“That’s all I do, Don . I mean no disrespect by my conditions. But that stipulation, as well as the fee, isn’t negotiable. Will that be a problem?”

Aranas sighed. Why was everyone competent a prima donna? He’d been cautioned by his associates that El Rey didn’t intimidate easily and was scrupulous in all aspects of his trade. If one wanted him, one expected to meet his terms. That’s just the way it was.

“I accept. But I will warn you. Anything that jeopardizes me will bring down the weight of the world on you, and there’s nowhere remote enough to hide from me. And why do we have to wait so long? I have a strong sense of urgency to this contract.”

“I completely understand and would expect no less. But I’m afraid that I can’t make it any sooner. Hopefully that won’t be a problem.” El Rey waited for any protest, and when none came, continued. “I will call at the agreed upon time and propose several meeting spots. I shall leave the final choice to you. We’ll need no more than half an hour. Thank you for your consideration in this,” El Rey said, and then the line went dead.

Aranas stared at the cell phone in his hand, and then stabbed the power off and resumed watching his film. One of his favorites. Bruce Willis was up against a diabolical terrorist, tackling impossible odds while taking names and kicking ass. They just didn’t make movies like that anymore. His nephew reentered the salon upon hearing the film resume.

Aranas handed him the phone. “Remove the battery and lock this up. On the twenty-fifth, charge the battery and bring it to me. I’ll be expecting a call.” He fixed his nephew with a hard look. “Javier, don’t forget this. It’s extremely important. Put a reminder in your phone or computer or whatever, but make sure I have that phone charged and ready on the twenty-fifth, or there will be hell to pay. Don’t disappoint me,” Aranas instructed.