“Yeah, we have all the modern conveniences, even toilet paper.”
“AND YOUR name is Mohammed?” Ernesto asked.
“That is correct, but for now, call me Miguel.” Unlike with Nigel, it was a name he’d be able to remember. He had not begun by invoking Allah’s blessing on this meeting. These unbelievers would not have understood.
“Your English is—well, you sound English.”
“I was educated there,” Mohammed explained. “My mother was English. My father was Saudi.”
“Was?”
“Both are dead.”
“My sympathies,” Ernesto offered with questionable sincerity. “So, what can we do for each other?”
“I told Pablo here about the idea. Has he filled you in?”
“Sí, he has, but I wish to hear it directly from you. You understand that I represent six others who share my business interests.”
“I see. Do you have the power to negotiate for all of them?”
“Not entirely, but I will present what you say to them—you need not meet with them all—and they have never rejected my suggestions. If we come to an agreement here, it can be fully ratified by the end of the week.”
“Very well. You know the interests I myself represent. I am empowered to make an agreement, as well. Like you, we have a major enemy nation to the north. They are putting ever-greater pressure on my friends. We wish to retaliate, and to deflect their pressure in other directions.”
“It is much the same with us,” Ernesto observed.
“Therefore, it is in our mutual interests to cause unrest and chaos within America. The new American president is a weak man. But for that reason he can be a dangerous one. The weak are quicker to use force than the strong. Even though they use it inefficiently, it can be an annoyance.”
“Their methods of intelligence-gathering concern us. You also?”
“We have learned caution,” Mohammed replied. “What we do not have is a good infrastructure in America. For this we need assistance.”
“You don’t? That’s surprising. Their news media is full of reports about the FBI and other agencies busily tracking your people within their borders.”
“At the moment, they are chasing shadows—and sowing discord in their own land by doing so. It complicates the task of building a proper network so that we can conduct offensive operations.”
“The nature of those operations does not concern us?” Pablo asked.
“That is correct. It is nothing you have not done yourselves, of course.” But not in America, he did not add. Here in Colombia the gloves were all the way off, but they’d been careful to limit themselves in the U.S., their “customer” nation. So much the better. It would be entirely out of character with anything they’d done. Operational security was a concept both sides fully understood.
“I see,” the senior Cartel man noted. He was no fool. Mohammed could see that in his eyes. The Arab was not going to underestimate these men or their capabilities . . .
Nor would he mistake them for friends. They could be as ruthless as his own men, he knew that. Those who denied God could be every bit as dangerous as those worked in His Name.
“So what can you offer us?”
“We have conducted operations in Europe for a long time,” said Mohammed. “You wish to expand your marketing efforts there. We’ve had a highly secure network in place for over twenty years. The changes in European commerce—the diminution of the importance of borders, and so forth—works in your favor, as it has worked in ours. We have a cell in the port city of Piraeus that can easily accommodate your needs, and contacts within the transnational trucking companies. If they can transport weapons and people for us, they can surely transport your products easily enough.”
“We will need a list of names, the people with whom we can discuss the technical aspects of this business,” Ernesto told his guest.
“I have it with me.” Mohammed held up his personal laptop computer. “They are accustomed to doing business in return for monetary considerations.” He saw his hosts nod without asking about how much money. Clearly, this was not a matter of great concern for them.
Ernesto and Pablo were thinking: There were over three hundred million people in Europe, and many of them would doubtless enjoy the Colombians’ cocaine. Some European countries even allowed the use of drugs in discreet, controlled—and taxed—settings. The money involved was insufficient to make a decent profit, but it did have the advantage of setting the proper atmosphere. And nothing, not even medicinal-quality heroin, was as good as Andean coca. For that they would pay their Euros, and this time it would be enough to make this venture profitable. The danger, of course, was in the distribution side. Some careless street dealers would undoubtedly be arrested, and some of them would talk. So, there had to be ample insulation between the wholesale distribution and retail sides, but that was something they knew how to do—no matter how professional the European policemen were, they could not be all that different from the Americans. Some of them would even happily take the Cartel’s Euros, and grease the skids. Business was business. And if this Arab could help with that—for free, which was truly remarkable—so much the better. Ernesto and Pablo did not react physically to the business offer on the table. An outsider might have taken their demeanor for boredom. It was anything but that, of course. This offer was heaven-sent. A whole new market was going to open up, and with the new revenue stream it brought, maybe they could buy their country entirely. They’d have to learn a new way of doing business, but they’d have the money to experiment, and they were adaptable creatures: fish, as it were, swimming in a sea of peasants and capitalists.
“How do we contact these people?” Pablo inquired.
“My people will make the necessary introductions.”
Better and better, Ernesto thought.
“And what services will you require of us?” he finally asked.
“We will need your help to transport people into America. How would we go about this?”
“If you mean physically moving people from your part of the world into America, the best thing is to fly them into Colombia—right here to Cartagena, in fact. Then we will arrange for them to be flown into other Spanish-speaking countries to the north. Costa Rica, for example. From there, if they have reliable travel documents, they can fly there directly, via an American airline, or through Mexico. If they appear Latin and speak Spanish, they can be smuggled across the Mexican-American border—it is a physical challenge, and some of them might be apprehended, but if so, they’d simply be returned to Mexico, for another attempt. Or, again with proper documents, they could just walk across the border into San Diego, California. Once in America, it’s a question of maintaining your cover. If money is not an issue—”
“It isn’t,” Mohammed assured him.
“Then you retain a local attorney—few of them have much in the way of scruples—and arrange the purchase of a suitable safe house to serve as a base of operations. Forgive me—I know we agreed that such operations need not concern us—but if you gave me some idea of what you have in mind, I could advise you.”
Mohammed thought for a few moments, and then explained.
“I see. Your people must be properly motivated to do such things,” Ernesto observed.
“They are.” Could this man have any doubt of that? Mohammed wondered.
“And with good planning and nerve, they can even survive. But you must never underestimate the American police agencies. In our business we can make financial arrangements with some of them, but that is very unlikely in your case.”
“We understand that. Ideally, we would want our people to survive, but sadly we know that some will be lost. They understand the risk.” He didn’t talk about Paradise. These people would not understand. The God they worshipped folded into their wallets.
What sort of fanatic throws his people away like that? Pablo asked himself. His men freely took their risks, measuring the money to be gained against the consequences of failure, and made decisions out of their own free will. Not these people. Well, one couldn’t always choose one’s business associates.
“Very well. We have a number of blank American passports. It is your job to be certain that the people you send us can speak proper English or Spanish, and can present themselves properly. I trust none of them will partake in flying lessons?” Ernesto meant it as a joke.
Mohammed did not take it as one.
“The time for that is past. Success rarely succeeds twice in my field of endeavor.”
“Fortunately, we have a different field,” Ernesto responded. And it was true. He could send shipments in cargo container boxes via commercial vessels and trucks all over America. If one of them was lost, and the programmed destination discovered, America had many legal protections for his downstream employees. Only the foolish ones went to prison. Over the years, they’d learned to defeat sniffer dogs and all the other means of discovery. The most important thing was that they used people who were willing to take risks, and most of them survived to retire back to Colombia and join the upper middle class, their prosperity the result of something in the distant, fading past, never to be repeated or spoken of.