Ballistic(139)
It was a needle in a haystack, Calvo knew, but it was also his job to do the bidding of his master.
His mobile rang again, it was his first incoming call of the day, and he flipped the phone open and answered. “¿Bueno?”
And five minutes later he stormed out of his office, pulling his Kevlar suit coat on as he shut the door behind him.
Daniel de la Rocha worked the gym’s heavy bag like an experienced middleweight boxer. He wasn’t the only man on the large teak floor—two more Black Suits stood around, already dressed for the business day, and shouted encouragement to him while he sparred with his trainer or worked the speed bag or pounded his gloved fists into the heavy bag. His trainer stood behind the bag in the corner giving instructions.
And Javier “Spider” Cepeda was there as well; he never left his boss’s side now, even though he also spent time giving orders to his underlings who came and went to execute their boss’s wishes regarding the war with los Vaqueros.
As was becoming his custom, fifty-seven-year-old Nestor Calvo Macias entered the room quickly, ignored the security detail and the others standing around, and walked purposefully up to his patrón.
DLR saw his man in the mirror on the wall. He dropped his arms to rest and turned to face Calvo. “You bring more bad news, don’t you, Nestor?”
“Super lab number six has been destroyed.”
“What do you mean, ‘destroyed’?”
“Destroyed, Daniel. It was there, and now it is not. There is fire. There is wreckage. Twisted metal. Dead bodies. A complete loss of the complex there and all its material.”
DLR just nodded as his trainer wiped his brow with a towel.
Calvo next said, “The Gray Man destroyed two full batches of product. Plus the capital equipment there. And he killed a few men. Some of the foreigners working there are gone. We don’t know if he kidnapped them or if they were killed or if they ran off on their own.”
De la Rocha flexed his chest and arms, then smashed his right fist into the heavy bag.
“Something else,” said Calvo, quietly. “A laptop was taken from the office of the administrator of the laboratory. The administrator has told my men that everything was locked and encrypted, with one exception. There was one file that was open at the time of the theft. This file had sensitive information on it, which we must assume is now in the hands of the Gray Man.”
De la Rocha punched the bag once again, then turned back to his consigliere. “What information?”
“Physical addresses of our real estate in Mexico.”
“Shit!” shouted DLR. “Madrigal now knows the location of all of our properties?”
“If the Gray Man is working for Madrigal . . . then yes.”
“¡Hijo de puta!” Son of a bitch! De la Rocha screamed, punched the heavy bag with all his might. He turned back quickly to his consigliere. “Cuernavaca? Was the Cuernavaca house on the—”
“Sí, jefe.”
“Nestor . . . my kids. My wife. That is my fucking home!”
“I know.”
“He said he would not touch my family!”
“With apologies, Daniel, he has not touched your family.”
De la Rocha waved away his last comment. “What do we do?” He stuck his arms out for his trainer to begin removing his gloves. The older man rushed over to comply.
Calvo shrugged. “Two days ago we complained he has cost us fifty million dollars. But now? To establish new routes and safe houses, to change distribution channels from our current properties into the United States? This could cost us ten times that amount.”
Spider had been silent, but he said, “Jefe, we must get you out of here, now!”
“My family,” DLR said softly. “Move them.” A Black Suit spun away, out of the room, pulling a phone from his belt to contact the Cuernavaca detail and have them move de la Rocha’s wife and six children.
But he did not get far. The man ducked his head back into the room. “I am sorry.” He looked around, did not know whom to address. “But where do I tell them to go?”
DLR said, “The property in Portugal. Get them to the airport in Mexico City and have the jet meet them there tonight!”
Calvo shook his head. “No. The address of the Faro estate was in the file.”
“Motherfucker.” The drug lord said it in English. He’d learned it while serving in the Mexican military, training in the United States. “He is destroying us.”
“No,” said Calvo. “Because you will not let that happen. You will give the Gamboa woman back to—”
“No!” DLR grabbed Calvo by his lapels and slammed the older man up against the mirrored wall. “I will not!”