Chapter 21
Carlos led Scott through the suite and down a hallway to an office with an obsidian desk fit for a man who ran a global empire.
The desk’s volcanic glass threw back a cold gleam under the dim light of a gold chandelier.
On the desk was a statue of a hyena sitting on top of a globe, his back arched and his maw agape.
Like the living room, the walls were lined with mirrors, except for the back wall, where a large window looked out onto Acapulco Bay. Only the faint pulse of reggaeton made its way to this soundproof office.
“Come, look at this, Scott,” Carlos said, standing next to the window.
Several stories below was a parking lot illuminated by yellow lights with an array of expensive cars.
There was an opal-colored Mercedes Benz S-Class, a canary yellow Ferrari, a red Corvette, a pink Cadillac convertible, a black BMW motorcycle, and an aqua Vespa moped.
In the middle was a red sports car, impossibly sleek with rounded fenders. The way the yellow lights reflected off the hood made the color look like polished blood. The car looked less manufactured than sculpted, every curve hand-shaped by someone who understood speed, money, and desire.
“What kind of car is that red one?” Scott asked
"You have a good eye,” Carlos said. “That’s the finest of my collection, a Maserati A6 1500. Only 61 were ever built. I like rare things.” He invited Scott to sit, then settled into a large black chair behind the desk. Beyond Carlos, the lights of Acapulco burned against the night.
“It’s the first car I bought when I made some money. I was about your age at the time.” He swiveled his chair toward the window. “I remember driving through the hills in that car and looking at that magical city, and I knew I had to have it.”
“Have what?” Scott asked.
“Everything.” The Hyena pulled out a cigar from his top drawer and lit it with a long black lighter that produced a flame like the afterburner of a jet.
Scott shifted uncomfortably as Carlos took a puff. Cigar smoke crawled across the obsidian desk. Scott felt like he was in Dracula’s Castle.
“It’s a beautiful car,” Scott managed to say.
“Yes, well, business has been good to me. I started with nothing and built an empire." His eyes narrowed. “But the thing about empires is that you always have rivals.” The cigar turned cherry red as he inhaled again. “Scott, do you know what business I’m in?
"It’s no secret,” the Hyena continued. “I sell cocaine.
The product moves from the ports of Columbia through the Panama Canal on container ships.
Then, they are unloaded here at the Port of Acapulco.
We load the drugs onto trucks and send them north.
Can you guess where every single one goes? To your country.
“The drug business has an endless demand,” Carlos went on, “and I deliver the product. I don’t cut the cocaine with fentanyl that kills people with one hit, nor do I mess with those new synthetic drugs that turns people’s brains into dust. No, I deal in the preferred party drug of the elite, pure Colombian cocaine. ”
Scott shifted in his seat. “Se?or?—”
“Please, call me Carlos.”
“Ok, Carlos. I appreciate you inviting me tonight but I really need to be going.”
“But you don’t know why I invited you.” Carlos pulled another cigar from his desk and offered it to Scott.
Before Scott could answer, Carlos lit the cigar with the flame and handed it to him.
Scott took a puff, feeling obliged. The smoke was both smooth and strong, like a bold cup of Colombian coffee.
"We’ll get to why you are here in just a moment but first let me tell you how I got started in this business. That way, you can better understand who I am and where I come from.”
The Hyena told Scott how his father was a street vendor in Acapulco who sold “chiclets,” or small candies. They were poor with just enough to eat but never enough for anything else, even for the medicine for his mother’s emphysema.
Then one day, while his family was at church, a man in rags, whom everyone recognized as a local homeless man, walked up the aisle in the middle of mass while a group of school children received their First Communion at the altar.
He held a bouquet of wildflowers, probably something he picked from the side of the road. No one said anything, not even the priest, as the man, hunched over and smiling, walked slowly up the aisle. Everyone just stared.
When he finally reached the altar, he placed the flowers upon it, then made the sign of the cross in the direction of the children.
He turned and walked back down the aisle to leave.
The church was quiet, like it was Jesus himself walking down the aisle, and almost everyone reached into their pockets to offer what little money they had to the homeless man.
“Remember, this is Acapulco,” Carlos said. “Most people don’t have enough to feed themselves, let alone a stranger, but people gave what little they had. Including my father, who gave him a few coins, which was more than he could spare.”
When the beggar reached the end of the aisle, a man in a black suit reached into his breast pocket and handed him a wad of cash.
“I’d guess it was 500 dollars,” Carlos said.
“Maybe a thousand. The beggar began to cry. He’d never seen so much money.
He got down on his knees as he thanked his generous benefactor.
“After mass, I asked my father who that man was, the man with all the money, and he told me that it was El Patrón, the head of the local cartel. I could tell my father didn’t approve of him, but the man’s act of generosity instilled something in me.
I figured whoever that was, despite what my father thought, that’s who I wanted to be.
Not my father, who was as kind as he was honest, but too poor to ever provide for us.
“Later, I went to work for that man. I started low, a drug mule at first, but I rose through the ranks and eventually, after his death, I replaced the boss as the head of the cartel.”
“How did he die?” Scott asked.
“In this business, bad things happen. Someday, I’ll tell you that story. But now let me tell you why I asked you here tonight.” Carlos stood, put his hands behind his back and turned toward the window. “I have a problem with my banks, and I want to move my money out of them.
“You see, the real thieves in Mexico are the banks, not the cartel. They don’t like the kind of business I’m in, although they do like my money.
Now, to save face with the new administration in Mexico City, they have threatened to close my accounts.
And this time, they might actually do it.
It has cost me a fortune in lawyers and bribes to keep access to my accounts this long.
But my luck may run out, so the time has come to change how I do business.
I want to take my money out of the banks, and I’m going to use cryptocurrency to do it. That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” Scott said.
“Yes, I want you to invest my money, ten million of it, into a specific cryptocurrency coin which can only be bought on a dark web exchange. For this easy task, I’ll will pay you handsomely.” He smiled and blew a ring of smoke into the air.
“But why me? Scott asked.
“Because I’m being monitored by the Federales in Mexico City and the authorities in your country.”
“Why not get one of your men to do it?” Scott asked.
“Everyone in my circle is being watched. Plus, I can’t trust any of my Dogs with that much money. And most of them are too stupid to navigate a crypto purchase. But I also can’t rely on someone completely outside of my orbit either. They’re likely to run away with my money.
“But you’re staying at the hotel,” Carlos said. “I can keep an eye on you. And you’re an American who is totally unconnected to me, so nobody is watching you.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“I want you to invest ten million dollars in a coin called Midas. All the instructions, account numbers, passwords, exchange information, are here on this thumb drive.” He slid the small steel thumb-drive across the table.
“You can make the purchase anonymously and store the crypto back onto the drive. When you give it back to me, I’ll pay you one million dollars. ”
“One million?”
“That’s right. Easy money, Scott. I wish I heard those words when I was your age.”
“I don’t know, Carlos,” Scott said. “I can’t get involved in anything illegal.”
“What’s illegal? You’re simply investing money, like a broker.
And there will be no way to trace it to you.
” Carlos stood up and walked toward the bar behind his desk and set up two tumbler glasses.
“Do you drink tequila, Scott? I mean, I know you like margaritas, but have you had real Mexican tequila?”
“Maybe a few shots.”
“No, not shots.” He said it in an exaggerated American accent.
“Have you sipped real Mexican tequila?” From an unmarked bottle of clear liquid, he poured a thumbs worth of tequila in a tumbler.
“That’s the real thing. It comes from the agave plant.
I bought a whole field of those a decade ago and now I am making my own tequila.
Think about how far I have come, Scott. And I was just a worker ant like you.
And I got all that by seizing the opportunity before me. ” He handed Scott the tequila.
Scott took a sip. The smooth liquid sent a warming sensation throughout his body. It wasn’t harsh like the other tequilas he drank in college. He could actually taste the agave.
“I knew you’d like it.” Carlos smiled. “I know from a very good authority that there is a bull market approaching, and the Midas coin stands to benefit. Therefore, I want this investment done immediately. No later than tomorrow. Do you understand?”
Scott rubbed his chin and thought of Daniela and her father. One million dollars could get them out of Acapulco and help them start a new life. If only someone had been there to save his father. “Alright, Carlos, for a million, I’ll do it.”
“Good, Scott. Do I have your word?” Scott nodded slowly. The tequila and cigar had mellowed him considerably. “Excellent. Now keep this drive safe. I will come visit you in a couple days to see your progress.”
Carlos and Scott shook hands, and Scott showed himself out. As he walked down the hill to his suite, he thought about the million dollars and all the problems it would solve.
He couldn’t wait to tell Daniela that he would soon be able to get her and her father out of Acapulco.