Authors: David Graham
Madrigal sat down across from Larsen, and the newly arrived bodyguards positioned themselves six feet back either side of his chair. The barman walked over to the table with a serving tray and
placed a large jug of orange juice, two glasses and a bucket of ice on the table. He moved to pour a glass for the drug lord, who waved him away. Madrigal grabbed a handful of ice, dropped it in
his glass and poured the drink himself.
“You?” he asked, gesturing with the jug.
Larsen shook his head, knowing Madrigal had to go through the motions. He was demonstrating that he was not so desperate to get on with it that he would compromise his dignity.
Madrigal took a sip from his glass and put it down, taking a moment to savour the freshness of the drink. He studied the mercenary who looked to be in less than perfect health.
“I suppose it’s some small consolation that you didn’t escape Cartagena totally unscathed. The file you sent contained incredible detail regarding the attacks against us and
the Kosovars. Tell me how you came to possess this information?”
“The reconnaissance reports were delivered to me before the attacks. The status reports I wrote, after the individual operations,” Larsen told him.
“After you’d participated in their execution?”
“Yes.”
“And the rest of the report?”
“The part outlining the overall objectives comes from a separate source. I’d been working towards another goal and was unaware of them. We’re meeting now because we each have
an interest in seeing those objectives aren’t realised.”
Madrigal smiled. “Does your interest stem partially from what happened in Cartagena?”
“It’s related, yes,” Larsen answered honestly.
“Before we discuss the goals outlined in the document, you say you were working to other ends. What were they?”
“A significant drop for an extended period in the amount of illegal narcotics produced and distributed.”
Madrigal laughed and then saw that Larsen was not joking. “Why?”
“It hurts a lot of people. Limit it and you spare them.”
“It was a humanitarian mission?” he asked incredulously.
“To a degree. I was contracted for a fee.”
“This is preposterous.”
“Maybe, but achievable. It was starting to work.”
“In the short-term perhaps but the market would have recovered in the next few months regardless of what had happened between us and the Kosovars.”
“I’m not sure I agree but we’ll never know.”
“And who funded your operation?”
“That’s beyond the scope of our discussion. You’ll have to accept my word that the people behind it won’t be resuming their campaign. The price involved was too
high.”
Madrigal considered this for a moment. Larsen knew the drug lord could always return to the topic later if he wished. Madrigal had all of the power and Larsen’s life was in his hands.
“Okay, the document mentioned seizing the territories, which has been accomplished, and my overthrow, which ... has not yet been decided. Your note said there was more to tell?”
“One of the Alliance’s inner circle knew about it. More than that, he participated in it for his own advancement.”
Madrigal’s surprise was visible as was the fury which very quickly followed when the full implications of Larsen’s statement sank in. He might have suspected there were leaks but for
them to be coming from the top level would be galling. It would mean that the person responsible would have been fully aware of the consequences of this campaign. All the hardship and setbacks that
the Alliance had endured had been orchestrated with the help of one of their own. Just as Larsen then Mesi and Wallace had reeled from the implications, Madrigal was now going through the same
process.
“You have proof of this?”
“Transcripts of reports referring to someone using a codename and describing actions taken to further his ascent. I also have intelligence reports, attributed to the same individual,
essentially him selling out his own associates.”
“How extensive are these transcripts?”
“Enough to demonstrate a strong correlation between the person and the codename. The guard over there,” he pointed to one of his escorts, “took the copies from me at the
hotel.”
Madrigal gestured and the guard placed a number of individually wrapped pages on the table in front of him. Madrigal read through them carefully, taking his time. When he had finished, he sat
back.
“These are interesting.”
Larsen nodded.
“But not enough,” the Colombian said. “He could say it’s all a clever concoction, I need something more. Something to clinch it.”
“In one of the reports the attack on Francisco Zaragosa is discussed. In order to ensure the traitor was locked in, tapes were made of his discussions relating to the assassination. He
details how and where Zaragosa could be most easily reached.”
“And these tapes?”
“When we’re finished, I’ll make a phone call and they’ll be delivered to you. He might be able to convince people that the documentation is fiction, but combined with the
tapes ...”
“Okay, let’s get down to the guts of it. You’ve spelt out what you can do to help me but what’s in this for you?”
“I’m ensuring that the people behind this don’t get what they want.”
“You find their objectives that abhorrent, or is it injured pride?”
“I might not have cared what they were doing, if they hadn’t involved me,” he agreed, “but that’s not my sole problem. They tried to have me killed. When it comes
to their attention that I’m still alive, they’ll try again.”
Satisfied with Larsen’s answer, Madrigal moved on.
“You’ve admitted your part in what I’ve had to endure, and while I may have other concerns, what you did is hardly insubstantial. Why should I let you walk away from here? Why
not force you to turn over the tapes and even the score a little in the process?”
“I don’t have the tapes and I don’t know where they are. Only a call from me from a specific location a day’s journey from Colombia can release them. You could gamble,
torture me and have me beg on the end of a phone. But I should say that the others involved had reservations about my approaching you. If the procedure’s deviated from, you risk not getting
the tapes.”
Larsen waited in silence while Madrigal deliberated. This was the moment in which it all hung in the balance. Madrigal might choose to try coercion or he might just kill Larsen and gamble that
the material he had been given, incomplete as it was, would be enough for him to see off the threat.
Finally, after what seemed like minutes to Larsen, Madrigal said, “Okay, I’ll accept that, but tell me, why do you think I won’t come after you and your accomplices when
I’ve dealt with my current situation?”
“Assuming your gratitude wasn’t enough?”
“Assuming that.”
“If it was me, I’d do a risk-reward analysis. You’re going to have your hands full reasserting control and trying to restore some balance to the relationship with the growers.
Maybe it’s easy enough for you to get rid of us but why take the chance?”
“To prevent you relaunching your humanitarian mission?”
“The moment is gone. Besides, we’ve seen the alternative to you.”
“You’ve only given me part of it, the objectives concerning the Alliance and the traitors in its midst. What about the identity of those who conceived this scheme to displace
me?”
“They’ll be dealt with.”
“Some of them directly by you, no doubt.”
Larsen shrugged his shoulders.
“I think that covers everything,” Madrigal said. “Although there is something I’d like to ask you. It occurred to me when I was reading your file. I know how I got here
but how does the son of a Portuguese fisherman from Northern Denmark, an affluent, comfortable country, wind up negotiating with the head of a Colombian drug cartel?”
“I’ve asked myself that. Whatever the answer is, I think I’ll be taking the more-travelled road from now on.”
“A shame considering your capabilities.”
Larsen did not reply.
“Well, I think we’re finished. My men have taken the liberty of packing your luggage. They’ll escort you directly to the airport.”
With that, the blindfold was placed back over Larsen’s eyes.
Rodriguez had arrived early and watched the men file in for the summit meeting. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been happier. This was the day he had waited for
and he intended to savour every minute. What was about to unfold would have been unthinkable only twelve months earlier. Everyone in Mexico now looked to him for leadership and Lora, the other
Mexican at the meeting, was only here because it suited Rodriguez. Appearing too much like a solitary leader might create the wrong impression.
The meeting began with a review of how they had fared since the conflict with the Kosovars had ceased. It was reported that, while they were almost back to former levels of supply, there was now
more competition in the markets where other players had exploited their difficulties and moved in. To combat this the cartel had taken a conscious decision to subsidise the product until they had
reasserted their position as market leaders. One factor that was undermining this effort, however, was the greed of the middlemen who were not passing on the full benefit. It was decided to
continue with the current distributors for one more month and then, if the matter had not been resolved, to evaluate other candidates. When the lengthy review of recent business had finished, the
men broke briefly for refreshments before the second half of the meeting, which was traditionally a forum for individual members to raise specific issues.
Rodriguez enjoyed the opportunity to mingle. Influential men from all over South and Central America appreciated the shift that had occurred and greeted him with deference. When he looked across
the room at Madrigal, the Colombian appeared relatively isolated. A few stalwarts still stuck close, showing their allegiance. He supposed their loyalty was to their credit but made it a point to
memorise who they were.
The break finished up and they made their way back to their seats to resume the meeting. He watched with detachment as a number of minor items were discussed and put to a vote. The unspoken
expectation in the room was palpable. When it reached the point where he felt it could not be dragged out any further he nodded across the table to Cabieses who stood up and requested the floor.
The elderly Peruvian was one of the most respected members of the council. In the past he had often been the calming influence and had averted many potential disputes. Regardless of the issues, he
could generally be counted on to find the reasonable middle ground. His sterling reputation and reluctance to become involved in personal agendas at the expense of the Alliance made him the perfect
man for the job. There had been no bribery or blackmail involved; both would have been impossible. Once he had been convinced of what was in the best interests of the majority he had volunteered
himself.
“Gentlemen, I wish to discuss a serious matter,” he began. “I do not raise this lightly but only because I see it as essential to our future. Before the recent difficulties we
enjoyed unparalleled prosperity under Luis’s direction.”
The old man turned and bowed his head slightly to Madrigal who gestured for him to continue.
“Luis formed the group which gathers here today, seeing what no one else could. By working together we increased our revenues many times over and with this came a period of great
stability. Despite everything he achieved, he never sought to dictate to us. Instead, he brought us together, eager to hear our thoughts. We should never forget how much he has given us.”
The old man paused, giving his tribute to Madrigal time to sink in, then he resumed. “But all things have their time, they grow, mature and ultimately wane. This is the way of the world,
you only have to look at me to see the proof.”
Some of the audience politely refuted his words but he held up his hand.
“No, it’s true. When I was younger my energy was boundless but now I leave much of the decision-making to the trusted friends who share this table. Occasionally I offer advice when I
feel it appropriate and this is enough to make me content. Everyone, regardless of former capabilities, reaches a stage when they have to hand over the reins to others. Times change and new
challenges arise; a man can find himself out of step with events.”