The Jaguar by A.T. Grant

Author:A.T. Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, crime, drug cartel, magical realism, mystery, Mexico, romance, Mayan, Mayan temple, Yucatan, family feud, conquistadors
ISBN: 9781785382529
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2015-07-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ciudad Juaraz

Old Paulo woke from a long, deep sleep. He had spent the previous day in bed, unable to settle, but equally unable to focus on the urgent issues his family faced. Reinvigorated, he was determined to make amends. Only half dressed, he threw open the door to the room and ordered the guard outside to raise Eusabio and arrange for breakfast to be sent up.

Eusabio was not in a good mood and Paulo felt his manner bordered on disrespect. He had been unable to contact anyone in Barrio Fuerte, including his own men, and he had just had an argument with Jorge Garcia. Jorge had previously failed to show up to buy identity card-making materials from Luis. “He told me he pulled out of the meeting because he was being tailed, but then why did he never contact us to apologise? I don’t believe him. He said he was too busy to call and that then he forgot. Who the hell does he think he’s dealing with? I’ve a good mind to go around now and take out the slippery bastard.”

“No, we won’t do that,” Paulo responded, calmly. “Tell Jorge that Don Paulo wants to meet him, and expects him to go through with the deal Luis organised. Everything is still here, so we can do it today. The Garcias are just small-time smugglers, but they need to know we’re still very much in charge, whether they want the gear or not.”

“Where shall we meet them?”

“At the usual safe house in the suburbs - I’ll ring the family. I’m feeling much stronger today. Perhaps I’ll celebrate by clearing the husband’s debt to us. I know he has a growing family now, so the place is no longer ideal. Tell Jorge to park up somewhere a few blocks away. You’ll collect and return him from there.”

Eusabio left without further comment and Don Paulo picked up his cell-phone. A small boy’s voice answered politely, and then shouted for his mother whilst Paulo was in the middle of a laboured, child-friendly greeting.

The lady was blunt: “My husband is not at home.”

Paulo was equally so: “Then ring him and tell him to expect us for a short meeting at 12pm. Tell him also that this will be the last time. If all goes well today then your family’s debt to my family will be repaid.” He could hear the woman stifle a sob. He listened briefly to the children arguing with each other in the background. Then she agreed to do as he asked, thanked him profusely and softly put down the phone.

The sound of two young bickering voices echoed through old Paulo’s memory and transported him back to Rancho Morales. He could see Luis tearing through the grass, with Alfredo tottering on behind. The grasslands wound for miles through patches of forest and clumps of jagged rock towards the deep canyons and high passes of the Sierra Madre. Estella, his soul-mate, loved to ride out from the ranch and sometimes would be gone for many hours.

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