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“You don’t understand our operation.”
“Clearly.” I say, with a little too much edge to my voice. I soften immediately. “Listen, Tío,you have your secrets you need to guard. I understand that. But I’m here to keep things moving. Tell me what you need so that I can do what we agreed on.”
“We send hundreds of cars through each day, White.”
“Okay—“
“At each marked point.”
Well shit.No wonder he’s the best. I assumed he’d use a couple decoys to throw off Border Patrol but hundreds of decoys? Every day?
Fausto smiles as he sees the realization wash over my face. I don’t hide it. It’s a natural reaction because fuck me, this guy is beyond—bigger, faster, wider, smarter—what anyone thinks.“Si.Now you start to see. That is too many cars for your tags.”
I nod slowly. “True. But before, every car was checked. These cars won’t be.”
“At all?”
“Bullshit.” Renaldo says.
I look at my father-in-law. “They’re checked beforehand. All the utility vehicles are registered and triple checked before getting the official tags. When they go through the utility lane they’ll be authenticated by the software three times, but no physical checks. Border Patrol will just watch the lane for untagged vehicles trying to make a break for it.”
Everyone sits in thought for a minute. Sweat trickles down my back. This man is one of the hundred, maybe fifty men who actually run the world. Not the United States. The transatlantic and Pacific drug trade, and thus the global economy. Every time he tells me a new secret, I can feel myself taking a step toward my destiny. And probably to my death.
“You look through the government contracts. List of all those makes and models, every type of utility vehicle. We’ll start building up our fleet.” He signals to one of the men who nods, then he looks back at me. “Tell me about the scans. Just the car tag or facial or what else?”
“Not necessary for anything else. These tags are impossible to forge. The three layers of code overlap and change hourly. That’s how SKRTY won the bid.”
He looks back at the man who’s been assigned to this project and speaks quickly in Spanish.Get employee tags made too, and uniforms. Duplicate all of it, top to bottom.I’m sure he’s heard my intentionally-clunky Spanish, he must assume I don’t understand it very well either. To them I’m just a stupid rich boy enjoying some nepotism. That’s fine. Much better for him to think that than to suspect anything close to the truth.
Arlo nudges Renaldo, who then looks to me. “You’ve heard the rumblings about problems with the Irish?”
Yes.I shake my headNo.In what circles would I have heard such things? None I should be in.
“Your wife needs more guards. Your house.” Arlo says. The guy is really young to be sitting at this table. Young and happy looking. Almost charming. Which makes me angry, that another punk kid is giving their life over to Fausto, just like Eleanna’s little brothers.
“Si.”Renaldo nods.“She’s still a Delgado, more so than you, son. My family members want to know she’s safe.”
“I can—“
I cut Arlo off. “I have private security. Not the secret service. Former black ops types. I’ll add more.” He might be Eleanna’s friend or cousin, or maybe he just wants to look like he cares for his bosses. Either way, I’m not letting more skeevy mafia men take over my private space. I also, though it pains me to admit it, don’t want more men around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the scraps of silk she calls pajamas.Don’t think about her right now, idiot.
“But,” Arlo continues and I open my mouth to argue.
“That’s fine.” Fausto shuts the conversation down. “I know we all love ourprincesabut you have bigger problems to deal with. Button up the North and the East and who knows where the fuck else, Arlo. Get your heads out of your asses. The senator can handle his wife.”
East. So the Italians in Miami are giving them trouble too. Interesting.
“Nosotros hemos terminado aquí.” We are done here.He says, shooing me away.
“Gracias.” I say, wincing at the bad accent I use on purpose. I move toward the door, but Fausto’s voice booms after me.
“Senator.” He narrows his eyes and makes me wait for whatever parting wisdom he’s about to share. “Sir orjefewill do. You have not earned the right to call me Tío yet.”
Shit.
Painfully, I bow, actually bow like a fucking servant. My very soul recoils in disgust, but I focus on the goal, my pride be damned.
I keep my voice soft and low. “Understood.”
