Tezcatlipoca by Kiwamu Sato

Author:Kiwamu Sato
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yen On

28

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He was a man of sharp features and sunken cheeks, just as Suenaga said. Very cautious and cold but with a manner and voice calm enough to disarm any wary conversation partners.

A man who seemed to fit the role of back-alley doctor perfectly. To Valmiro, Kenji Nomura appeared to be the same sort as the lawyers or accountants cartels hired.

In a hotel lounge in Horikawa-cho, Kawasaki, the two men pored over a catalog of air purifiers and conversed in English. Unlike Suenaga, Nomura could not speak Spanish.

Playing the part of a businessman and drinking his coffee, Valmiro asked about the source of Nomura’s cocaine. He learned that the man’s supply did not come entirely from the yakuza. He had his own, meager connection.

He’s an interesting fellow, Valmiro thought, sizing Nomura up. Or maybe it’s just the mafia japonesa I find interesting? In the Mexican cartels, a lawyer or accountant selling even a hundredth of a gram of the cartel’s cocaine is a dead man. Does he have more leeway because he’s a back-alley doctor? Or maybe this Nomura has a knack for disguises.

According to Nomura himself, he’d been smuggling cocaine from Taiwan since he was an active anesthesiologist. Valmiro envisioned a map of the drug world. After defeating Los Casasolas, the Dogo Cartel consolidated Eastern Mexico and now controlled the routes into America. As far as he knew, they weren’t sending any product to East Asia yet. And the Sinaloa Cartel, which controlled Western Mexico, was focused on America and the EU. Thus, it was highly likely that the Taiwanese cocaine was coming from some new power in Michoacán or Jalisco.

Nomura’s personal sales were strictly limited to the local area. Valmiro could have lent his wisdom and experience, but he hadn’t come to Kawasaki to assist a Japanese man’s small-time cocaine business. Besides, a true narco didn’t grow his business as slowly as a farm raised marijuana and coca plants. It took time to build up an organization, but when it was time to expand the enterprise, you had to act as dramatically and explosively as a volcanic eruption, seizing your enemies’ plaza as quickly as possible.

There was no real competition, only monopoly.

When a tech entrepreneur from Silicon Valley said something along these lines, Valmiro and his brothers laughed about it.

“We invented that line. Should we sue him for infringement?”

When monopoly and monopoly clashed, war was the result. Sometimes it could last for years.

Valmiro was here on this Asian island to build the funds he needed to launch another such war.

The gears were already in motion.

Blood capitalism. The red market. Valmiro and Nomura were flipping through the air purifier catalog, speaking English in hushed tones. A lounge waiter came to the table and asked, “Would you like some more coffee?”

The two men smiled and nodded.

In the month before Suenaga arrived in Japan, and the year before the cruise ship came to Kawasaki, he and his associates had a veritable mountain of tasks to get through.

Nomura bought an ailing workshop that made accessories in the Odasakae area near Kawasaki Port.

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