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 the Grand Pyramid’s top step. With hands on her hips and catching her breath, she scanned the area, afraid she’d kept Gaspar waiting too long. To her right, she saw an Asian woman sitting on a stone wall, talking to an older man. Their conversation seemed light and pleasant. He pointed to a page in the book she was holding, bellowing a gregarious laugh and over-annunciating his English. The woman reached into the bag, pulled out a water bottle, and handed it to him; he nodded thanks.
Kat walked to the pyramid’s edge, looked right, and saw a crumbling ruin pushing out of the jungle across from her. She looked below and saw people contemplating their climbs, but none had begun their ascent yet. Then, she walked to the other end and passed behind the old man, who now sat on the top step. The woman he’d been talking to was descending, hunched over, and carefully stabilizing herself with a hand.
Kat watched with the man as the woman navigated her descent.
The man said, “They’re steep, and you must be careful when you go down, or you will find yourself in the back of an ambulance.” He took a swig from the water bottle the woman had given him.
“I guess so. It was a good workout coming up, though,” Kat said, still watching the woman.
“That woman was here because she had always wanted to climb a pyramid. She came to sit and read the writings of Rumi and experience learning here. She wanted to contemplate her life, and I think she was hoping for a spiritual moment, a moment of enlightenment, if you will. I must say, I’ve had more than one at this place myself. Tell me, señorita, are you up here looking for something more than a breathtaking view today?”
“Gaspar?”
“Katarina Vaughn. The niece I’ve only just met. Please, come sit.”
Kat sat on Gaspar’s left, next to the platform. Gazing again at the jungle below after taking another drink, he asked, “Such a beautiful view, don’t you think?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“On the platform beside you, the Mayans would perform rituals and make proclamations to their people. It was the stage from where they spoke to everyone below.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But you’re not here to learn about the ancients or find out about things that are beautiful, are you?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Before I tell you what I know, please tell me why you want to know it. It’s not for a story. You can get this information anywhere, so why do you need to talk with me?”
Kat started with the race debate in San Diego. Gaspar had seen clips of it on television and chuckled when she mentioned it. He didn’t know he was listening to his niece then, but he told her he should have—only the bold belonged in his family. She continued with the night of her sexual assault, the aftermath, and her vow to help a man who helped her along with the men who fought for her country. She wanted to make a difference and needed to bring these men home.
Kat said, “I have to hear it firsthand. Reading or hearing someone else’s work only allows me to report someone else’s interpretation. When I know the truth, I’ll report it because people need to hear what the cartels are doing to these men. Americans need to know how we’re part of the problem.”
“Do you really think you can make a difference?”
“I’ll damn sure try.”
Gaspar smiled at the naivety but also admired the drive and fire. Perhaps she could make a difference, and he could help. “Tell me what I did for a living,” Gaspar said.
“You were a lieutenant for the Sinaloa.”
“And?”
“You were just below your brother-in-law but above the sicarios and halcones. You were like one of his consiglieri. Is that close?”
Raising an eyebrow, he said, “You’ve done your homework. Muy bien.”
“Why the veterans, Gaspar?”
“Let me ask you a question. Do you understand business?”
“A little.”
“What’s the main goal of any business?”
“To make money.”
“And to make money, you either do the job yourself or hire the right people to do it for you. Our business was to produce and move products to our buyers. Your country doesn’t want my product on its streets, so they try to stop it from crossing its borders, but I still need to move it. A competitor will do it if I don’t, and then I’m out of business. If there is a demand, there will be a supply.”
“Okay, business is business, but you’re not answering my question. Why American veterans?”
“Katarina, my business isn’t acceptable to our governments, so we need protection from them and our competitors. We have our merchandise and territory to protect, too. If it means employing the best to get it done, we do it.”
“The best?”
“Tell me, who’s this world’s enforcer? Who’s this world’s police? I will tell you, like it or not, it’s the United States military. Lesser countries say they don’t like it, but how many will run to the United States crying like babies for help if they are under attack and demand aid and assistance? Whose borders are being breached by the masses to find a better life? We both know that answer. They want what your country has because your country has wealth, skill, and power, and this includes its soldiers. They’re the most capable fighting machines and efficient killers on earth. They’re smart, talented, gifted even, making them assets we covet. So, when one of these assets becomes available, we must take it first and use it, or our competitors will. It’s a gift to us when your government deports one of them.”
“It doesn’t seem fair to me. You’re forcing men to murder and kidnap innocent people. You give them no choice.”
“In my business, sobrina, no one is innocent. If they are, we leave them alone. They’re not our problem. We kill those who threaten our livelihood, our product, our territory, or our business. We use tactics that are, how can I say it, extreme sometimes, but only to produce and distribute our product. Tell me, has not your country asked your soldiers to do the same?”
“No, we don’t. 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 and asked, “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes, I do. Collateral damage, the fog of war—I get it. What you’re saying is all bullshit, though, and you know it. The Sinaloa do kill and kidnap innocent people, and you make those American vets do it in your name, or you kill them. That’s just coldhearted, callous, and wrong. Sorry, I asked.”
After pausing to let the tension subside, Gaspar said, “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.”
“Why?”
“What do you know about the new cartels and these other criminal organizations?” Gaspar asked as a hint of frustration crept into his tone. “I’ll tell you what. Nothing. You know nothing, sobrina.”
“I feel like―”
“Sí, you feel, and that is your problem. Everyone in America wants to feel, Katarina. Everyone wants to judge me based on what they feel and their opinion. What do you know? Not what do you think or feel, but know? I’ll tell you what. Nothing. That’s why you’re here, sí? You risked your life and Francesca’s and mine because you wanted the real story, not just something you’ve read, so because I know you want to learn and you’re my family, I’ll give you a short history lesson, my new niece. I will always help my family. Do you want to know, Katarina?”
Kat nodded, anxious to hear his next words.
