“He’s clean,” one of the men said to Jorge.
“Perfecto,” Jorge praised. “As I thought he would be, ah, amigo?”
Chris jerked his arm out of the hold of the one man who still hadn’t let him go, and fixed the front of his blazer, brushing off any invisible dust. He hated being handled like he was nothing more than a dog. “Offensive, is all.”
Jorge waved a hand, dismissing that statement. “Can’t be too safe, for one. And for two, I enjoy the show. Now, are you ready to see the ranch?”
“Which do you prefer to call it, the compound or the ranch?”
“Whichever one seems less illegal at the time.”
Good point.
“I look forward to seeing it,” Chris said.
“Come on, then.”
Once the guards stepped back to give Chris room, he moved to follow Jorge who already had his back turned to the others as he walked down the road. Just how long was the road before they arrived at the ranch?
Chris stepped beyond the iron gate with the cursive L welded at the center, and a thought whispered through his mind at the same time. No going back now. The job had only kind of been in play before, but now it was go time. Well, his mind wasn’t wrong, but he pushed it out of his head, so he could focus on the now.
From here on out, Chris would have to be careful. It was just him here—his father, as of a week ago, was back in Canada, and he didn’t have a back up. Sure, he had a phone to call out if he needed help, but what good was that going to do? It would take people time to get here to him, and by then, it would be already too late.
“You’ll see the barns first,” Jorge said, “a couple of miles in. We use them for a lot of things, being we have actual animals on the ranch, but we also use them for storage before a drop, or if we have an oversupply at any given time. Depending on the circumstances before a smuggle run for your father, we’ll be storing his on the property.”
Gravel crunched under Chris’s feet, and the hot sun overhead beat down on his back, reminding him why it had been a bad idea to wear his usual slacks and blazer. At least, he had been smart enough not to wear a fucking tie.
Still, as he shrugged off his jacket, he asked, “How far in is the main ranch?”
“Five miles.”
“And we walk the whole way?”
Jorge chuckled. “We do.”
Great.
“Has the ranch ever been stormed by officials, or—”
“No,” Jorge interjected fast, “because I pay a lot of money to make sure that doesn’t happen. Or, we divert their attention to somewhere else, give them something they want, and that’s all.”
“I don’t understand.”
The man glanced over his shoulder at Chris, grinning sardonically. “Here, it is all about who you know, and who you can blackmail or bribe. They need an arrest, or a bust, and so we give it to them, so they have something to flash on the news, and make it look like they’re doing something important. The public thinks they’re getting a hold on the cartels, the government looks good, and la policía appear like they’re doing their job. Our main operation remains untouched, and we continue to operate as normal. Clear enough?”
More than, but Chris didn’t bother to say it.
“I heard your wife was the daughter of a politician,” Chris said, still keeping a few paces between him and Jorge just in case. He still didn’t trust the man. “Does that play into your bribery and blackmail at all?”
“It did,” Jorge muttered, “and then I had the man killed when he was no longer useful, so it didn’t matter.”
Yes, after Valeria had run off. Chris had enough information to know that. He wondered if that was because Jorge thought her father helped her to get away. He didn’t ask because that wouldn’t be smart, but he still wondered.
Sure enough, two large barns took form on the horizon. With the lack of animals around the fenced in sections around the barns, he had to wonder if the structures were being used to house something with a heartbeat, bricks of cocaine, or both.
Likely the latter.
“The barns are a good distraction, or ... ruse,” Chris noted, trying to keep up the con of why he was here in the first damn place. For business. “Any aerial shots would only show the barns, and any animals or whatever else. Thermal imaging would show the heat of the animals and confuse the systems. It fits well with the ranch, and nothing looks out of place.”
“Exactly.”
At around three miles, the duffle bag hanging from Chris’s grasp became heavier. He wasn’t out of shape—at home, he went into a gym three times a week, and jogged every morning on a treadmill just to wake up before jumping in the shower. He maintained his image and body because he preferred to be healthy, but no fucking human should walk in the dead heat for this long.
“And the barns are only the beginning of the ranch,” Jorge said, glancing back at him once more. “There is a great deal more to see, and my men will show you around for the tour tomorrow after you’ve settled in for the evening. I have something else I need to handle, but I will come around to check in throughout the day. You’ll have lodging here—one of the smaller houses on the property—and full run of the place to look around and see what you think. Sound good?”
Chris nodded. “Sounds fine.”
Time to get this job started.
• • •
“Are you lost?”
Feminine laughter, two distinct tenors, rang out in the darkness. The amusement at his expense didn’t offend Chris, but he took a moment to figure out where the sound was coming from.
Apparently, following the fence line would not take him back to the main pathways of the Lòpez ranch that would lead to the houses, but rather, behind them. Or in this case, one house. Chris wasn’t told to explore on his own after he settled into the residence he would use during his stay, but he also hadn’t been told not to explore, either.
He figured, what was the harm?
This late at night, it seemed like the only people around were the guards. He wasn’t going inside any of the houses, or other buildings. This wasn’t snooping, and he enjoyed a good walk in the evenings and mornings.
He found the source of the laughter sitting on the back wraparound porch of a one-level bungalow. Sitting on a hanging swing, each with a wine glass in hand, two familiar women looked his way. Only one was smiling though.
“Abril,” he greeted, stepping away from the fence to approach the house, “and Valeria. I wouldn’t say I’m lost, no ... more like looking around.”
“Careful,” Abril said, tipping her wine glass up to her lips as though she might take a drink, “my brother doesn’t like it when people snoop.”
“Does he also take a problem with people who like to walk?”
Abril made a noise under her breath. “Depends on what you’re walking toward.”
Consciously, Chris’s gaze drifted to the quieter woman sitting beside Abril on the bench. Valeria, that was. She didn’t avoid his gaze, but he could see she wasn’t going to engage him in a conversation like this, either.
That bothered him.
Valeria was, after all, the entire reason for him being here. He kind of needed her to talk to him, amongst other things. Like trust him, but that was a task for another day ... or evening. It wasn’t something he could do tonight, anyway.