Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (e reader for manga .txt) 📗

Zorro looked as though she’d come from the same manufacturer as Laura, only with green eyes and an even more pronounced sex appeal. The first thing she said to Laura when she saw her was, “So you’re blonde now.” So, Laura had not always been a blonde.

“What’s important about hair color?” Laura asked, humorously which seemed out of character. The humorous spell ended quickly, and Laura announced, “David Gideoni sends his regards and requests that you help us.”

Without answering, Zorro looked me up and down and asked, “Are you with her?”

The question had a few potential meanings and so I looked at the two green flames in front of me and answered, “For this particular matter, I’m with her.”

Zorro bit back a smile. She had asked, I had answered, and the conclusion was obvious to both of us.

“What do you need?” she asked.

I looked around. There were workers preparing the stage for the night’s show, porters pushing crates of drinks, and kitchen staff coming and going with boxes of vegetables and other food items. “First of all, we need a secluded place where we can talk.”

“You’re right.” Zorro put her arm through mine and though it was the same gesture that Laura had done, and the feeling it evoked was different. “Anything that has to do with David Gideoni,” Zorro said, in strangely accented Hebrew, “needs seclusion.”

***

Zorro’s office was a space mainly occupied by a round wooden table topped by a piece of thick glass. Underneath the glass were etchings of an artist describing some sort of religious ritual. On the far side of the table was a small desk with a blank screen atop it. Between the two tables, next to the wall stood a simple iron cabinet. As soon as we sat around the table, a smiling waitress walked in with a tray with three frozen margaritas. “In this heat, there is no hour too early for a good margarita,” said the waitress. She served us and before she went out asked, “How long do I need to give you before the next round?”

Zorro answered, “They look as if they need permanent cooling… give us about fifteen minutes and come back with the new margaritas that Bart served yesterday.” Only after we clinked glasses did Zorro say, “Speak.”

I looked at Laura and asked, “Do you want to present the situation?”

Her eyes were staring at Zorro, but she spoke to me, “I think that the Israeli story will make the difference between cooperation and just friendly hospitality.”

I nodded, and said, “The situation is related to Israel, which is why Gideoni sent us here.” I told Zorro most everything I knew. I left out my personal attachment to the story. She didn’t have a personal debt to me. Her debt was to the State of Israel, to the Mossad, to Gideoni, who had saved her.

Zorro listened attentively, and when I was finished, she took a sip of her drink and thought things over for a few more minutes before she spoke. “I understand that you need to follow the money-drug-arms route. Or, alternatively, locate whomever agreed to this deal.”

“Exactly,” Laura and I agreed unanimously, like soldiers.

“There are a few options. You will have to check what suits you the best, because according to the schedule, you will only have one chance and it too is problematic.”

“Please explain.”

Zorro smiled. “Basically, the cartels are divided into two groups based on old alliances. For over fifty years they have been fighting over territory for growing poppy and marijuana fields, and human resources… which means control over villages. They battle over contacts with government officials, guard officials and corrupt judges.

“Another side of this battle is transporting the drugs into the United States and from there onto Canada and Europe. The transportation is a sensitive issue because it concerns all other issues as well: villages which have safe passages, police control checkpoints that can stop you or accompany you safely, and, most importantly, help you cross the border. Whoever controls the corridor which leads to North America controls the market. The eastern corridor has been controlled by the Juarez and Gulf cartels. Then there is the west corridor. Needless to say the west coast is flourishing with drugs. The corridor between El Paso and Juarez is the most important and sets the standard, because its revenues from drug dealing are the highest.”

Zorro’s explanation was cut short by a knock on the door. She acknowledged it and the smiling waitress came in once again with tequilas, red as blood.

“Ooh! These look delicious. My barman likes inventing new drinks. This is a mixture of red grapefruit and watermelon. It looks deliciously amazing.”

We each took a glass from the tray. The drink had a mixture of bitterness with sweetness and did exactly what it was meant to -- freshen the day.

The waitress left and Zorro continued with her explanation. “Both the Gulf cartel and the Juarez cartel are old rivalries. Both of them were established in the Seventies. The Gulf cartel had their own armed guards called Los Zetas. Around the end of the Nineties, the Los Zetas betrayed the Gulf cartel and disengaged themselves. They changed sides and made a pact with the Juarez cartel.”

“Why are the Los Zetas so significant in the arena?” I asked.

“Because, it is a cartel which consists of ex-lawmen; local cops, federal cops and soldiers -- special units. They are the ones who raised the level of violence on the Mexican streets and brought the famous beheading. They are very sophisticated, more so than the cops chasing them, and so is their ability to handle teams and arms. The detachment from the Gulf cartel caused a double loss. Not only did it lose the protection of ex-lawmen, with all their alliances and connections, but they also became a target for the government.”

“That was a big risk they were taking,” I noted

Zorro looked at me with utmost seriousness and replied, “In the drug business, the reward is so great that it