I’m frustrated, disillusioned, fed up. My first investigation garnered national recognition, and now, my second’s shoved my ass right into the spotlight. For months, I’ve lectured about my run of successes, but neglected my greatest passion.
Investigating.
Ever true to my often impetuous and habitually sarcastic personality, that is, I sometimes don’t know when to shut my mouth, I ignite controversy with a public comment or two on race relations. Incensed, some racist dimwits decide to teach me a lesson, and if not for an unexpected and perhaps destined encounter with a stranger, my life would have met a horrific end. In the aftermath, I can’t dismiss something he said that fateful night–“I’m an American, just not a resident anymore”–so I launch my next quest.
I must have answers and will do anything to get them. The United States has been deporting honorably discharged veterans for more than fifty years, and no one seemingly cares. Why?
From Oshawa to the Yucatan, the California coast to the South China Sea, the dark and gritty alleys of Tijuana to the opulent Oval Office, in jungles and deserts and high atop pyramids, the pursuit to uncover the truth knows no boundaries or costs, even when the price proves fatal.
– Rumi –
Like life, the lines are a little blurry in this one, and it’s frustrating as hell! Governments, politicians, judges, media personalities, white supremacist–the list goes on. Oh, did I mention the cartel?
Kat bounded up the final step of the Grand Pyramid, hands on her hips as she caught her breath. The climb had been steeper than she expected. She scanned the summit, her pulse quickening.
To her right, an older man sat on a stone wall, speaking animatedly to an Asian woman. He pointed at a book she was holding, his laughter booming as he over-annunciated his English. The woman smiled, handed him a water bottle, and began her cautious descent.
Kat moved toward the pyramid’s edge, surveying the ruins below. Tourists milled about the grounds, some snapping photos, others contemplating the climb she’d just conquered. None looked remotely like the person she was supposed to meet.
Her stomach knotted with impatience. She walked to the other side of the summit, where the older man now perched on the top step. He watched the woman’s descent, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.
“They’re steep,” he said without turning his head. “You must be careful when you go down, or you’ll find yourself in an ambulance.” He took a long drink from the water bottle.
Kat turned to him, curiosity piqued. “I guess so. But it was a good workout coming up.”
“That woman came to sit and read Rumi. She wanted to climb a pyramid, contemplate life, and experience enlightenment. I must say, I’ve had a few moments like that up here myself. Tell me, señorita, are you here for something more than a breathtaking view?”
Kat’s heartbeat quickened. “Gaspar?”
The man turned, his sharp eyes studying her face. “Katarina Vaughn. My niece. Come, sit.”
She sank onto the step beside him, the platform looming at her side.
Gaspar looked out over the jungle, the vibrant canopy stretching endlessly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It’s stunning.”
He gestured to the stone platform. “The Mayans once used this stage to address their people, make proclamations, and hold rituals. But you’re not here to learn about the ancients or admire the view, are you?”
“No,” Kat admitted.
Gaspar smiled faintly, taking another swig of water. “Before I tell you what you want to know, I need to understand why. You’re not here for a story. You could’ve gotten that anywhere. Why me?”
Kat hesitated before launching into her journey, starting with the San Diego debate. Gaspar chuckled when she described it.
“Boldness,” he said. “It runs in the family.”
She detailed her assault, the aftermath, and her vow to fight for deported veterans. She finished with, “I need to know the truth firsthand. Reading someone else’s interpretation isn’t enough. Americans need to hear what the cartels are doing to these men and how we’re complicit.”
Gaspar listened intently, his expression inscrutable. “And you think you can make a difference?”
“I’ll damn sure try.”
His lips curled into a small smile. “You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that. Tell me, what do you think I did for a living?”
“You were a lieutenant for the Sinaloa cartel.”
“And?”
“You answered directly to your brother-in-law, and you were above the sicarios and halcones. You were like a consigliere.”
Gaspar raised an eyebrow. “Not bad. You’ve done your homework.”
“Why the veterans, Gaspar? Why recruit them?”
He leaned back, his tone turning professorial. “Do you understand business?”
“Some.”
“What’s the goal of any business?”
“To make money.”
“And to make money, you hire the best people. My business was no different. Your government doesn’t want my product crossing its borders, but I still have to move it. If I don’t, my competitors will. Demand creates supply.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t explain why you target American veterans.”
Gaspar’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “Who’s the world’s enforcer? Who’s the world’s police?”
“The U.S. military?”
“Exactly. They’re the most capable fighters on the planet—intelligent, efficient, and even gifted. When your government discards them, they become available to us. If we don’t use their skills, our competitors will. It’s a gift when your country deports one of its own soldiers.”
Kat’s voice hardened. “You force them to murder and kidnap. You give them no choice.”
“No choice?” Gaspar leaned forward, his voice lowering. “Your government has asked its soldiers to do far worse in its name. Don’t tell me you believe the stories of innocence and virtue.”
“We don’t ask anyone to deliver drugs or torture and kill innocent people.”
Raising a skeptical eyebrow and taking another drink of water, he noticed Kat becoming angry. “Do you really believe that?” he asked.
Kat’s jaw tightened. “I believe the cartels kidnap and kill innocent people. I believe you make veterans do it, or you kill them. That’s cold. It’s wrong.”
Gaspar paused to let the tension subside. “Katarina, everything I’ve told you is the truth. I had men kill and do many unpleasant things to others to make a point and set an example. I’ve had people kidnapped and tortured to get information. Yes, I’ve ordered many things done in my life that are grotesque and unthinkable, but I haven’t had one single child or innocent person intentionally killed. Not one.” He stared into her eyes.
“Then what are all these stories I hear and see and read? Innocent people are dying, Gaspar. Is that just the fog of cartel wars?”
“That, I’m afraid, is why I’m retired.”
Kat stared at him, skeptical.
He sighed, surveying the jungle below. “These new cartels? These new criminal organizations? They don’t understand honor. They don’t follow the old rules. There’s no code. But you’re here for answers, so I’ll give them to you. Not what you feel or think, but what I know. Are you ready to learn, Katarina?”
Kat nodded, her heart pounding.
