An Inconsequential Murder (17 page)

“
OK, I’ll do that. But, what about making a list of the logs you think I should see.”

“
Yeah, I can do that right now.”

“
By the way,” asked Lombardo, “if we find that file or files Victor encrypted, we’ll be able to open them with these, right?”

“
All you need is the private key,” Lupe assured him. He handed Lombardo a paper. “Here’s a list of some of the logs you should see. This one will tell you how he was moving around, logging into what computers and so on; this one will let you know about the files he was accessing. Now, the security files and logs are kept pretty well guarded so they might balk at letting you see them, but be sure to lean on the log manager, he’s a pretty nervous little fellow but he’ll help you, I’m sure.”

“
Thanks, Lupe.”

As Lombardo left Lupe
’s office, his cell phone rang: it was the University’s chief of security. He told Lombardo that the information he had requested was ready. It had been recorded on a DVD. Lombardo asked him to send it by messenger to his home, not his office. He asked for the messenger to deliver the disc to him personally.

When Lombardo got home, the messenger was there standing by his motorcycle, with the disc in his hand. There was also a note from the Security chief. It said that they had thoroughly searched the security recordings and found only a brief glimpse of Victor but that there was something very interesting on the disc and that he hoped it would help Lombardo in his pursuit of the killers.

Lombardo sat on his easy chair and watched the blurry black-and-white images. Indeed something very interesting had been recorded—the time shown was 1:32 a.m. In the sequence, Victor came through the Computer Center main door, looked to his left, zipped up his jacket, and went off camera as he walked down the steps. A few minutes later, at 1:37 a.m., a car whizzed by the camera. Lombardo assumed that it was Victor’s car. A few seconds later, a second car was recorded going by. A second car!

Lombardo hit the
Back button and stopped it as Victor’s car went by; then he forwarded the disc, frame by frame until the second car showed up. He tried to see who was in the second car but the image was too blurry; it was dark and the parking lot lights shone on the windshield and car windows.

Excited, Lombardo called the University
’s security chief. He asked him for the make, model, and license plate number of Victor’s car. “Sure,” said the Security Chief, “we have all employees’ car registration and plates on file—for insurance purposes, you know.”

“
I’ve got to find that car,” said Lombardo as he called his good friend Ramiro Lozano who worked in the State’s Traffic and Road Security Department.

“
Ramiro,” he said when his friend answered the phone, “I need to find an automobile right away.” He gave him the make, model, and license number and told him to send it over to the Federal Highway Patrol as well as the Metropolitan Police. He told him to warn officers that the car would probably have been abandoned somewhere south of the city or maybe even outside the city, perhaps near one of the reservoirs. They had to act quickly because most likely that car was going to disappear.

Chapter
20: A High-Stakes Meeting on the High Seas

The large yacht sailed out of Acapulco
’s sheltered marina, turned to port when it cleared the peninsula, and then to port again as it headed out to sea.

The guests stayed in their cabins until the coast was out of sight; then, a crew member came around tinkling a bell softly and announcing that cocktails were being served on the aft deck.

A large man dressed all in white and wearing stylish sunglasses stood, drink in hand, leaning against the aft railing. As his guests arrived, a waiter offered the men whiskey highballs and the women champagne.

The last to arrive was a tall blonde woman who took a glass of champagne and went to stand by the large man in white.

“
Salud,
” said the man and all guests repeated “
salud
” and then sipped their drinks.

“
I am glad all of you could come on such short notice. As I mentioned on my telephone calls, I arranged for this meeting because we have urgent business to discuss and some important things to arrange tonight. For your information, we will sail up the coast to Mazatlán. You don’t have to worry about how to get back home because I have arranged flights for all of you from there. You’ll be back by morning and no one will know you were even gone,” he laughed expansively after he said that and looked pointedly at Abelardo Unzúntia, who instead of being in his jail cell awaiting the outcome of an extradition procedure, had been “allowed” out for the night by the jail’s warden.

“
But before we get down to business,” said the man in white whom everyone knew as “the President’s cousin,” “let’s enjoy this wonderful sea air, our delicious company,” he said as he bowed to the blonde woman, “and the great meal the chef is going to cook for us tonight, eh?”

“
Yes, of course,” they all agreed and again raised their glasses when
he said “
salud.
”

The meal was indeed grand. The chef had agreed to come on this trip because the man in white had lured him away from the Maria Isabel Hotel with an offer that doubled his pay at the hotel and provided for an interest free loan and help so he could set up his own restaurant in Mexico City.

After the dinner, the women went back to the aft deck to lie down on the deck chairs and gossip in the balmy night air. The sea was calm. The yacht glided effortlessly over the small waves and the women’s laughter floated out into the moonlit night. Far-away the lights of a coastal town twinkled like stars that had fallen to Earth.

The men sat in the dining room, chatted loudly, puffed on their large cigars, and drank generously from their snifters of port. The last crew member to leave the room closed the heavy glass doors. Now the chatter and laugher of the women in the aft deck could barely be heard in the dining room.

Alfonso Echeverría, who was not only the owner of the yacht and the evening’s host, but also the President’s cousin, turned to the young man on his right, Francisco Elizondo, the recently elected Senator from the northeastern State of Coahuila, and asked, “So, how are the arrangements going?”

Before answering, Senator Elizondo ran his hand through his hair. His young face seemed curiously mismatched to his thick, gray mane. He sighed and said, “I think I have the right man ,but we are still checking him out.”

“
What does that mean, ‘checking him out’?” asked Governor Sanchez who was sitting at the end of the table—the “place of honor” according to the host.

Senator Elizondo turned to him with a weary look and said, “It means we are looking into his personal and professional life to see that there are no loose ends.”

“
Let’s not get into details, don Platón,” said the President’s cousin to the Governor. “I am sure that the distinguished representative of the State of Coahuila will handle this as it should be. The important thing is to get things done before our ‘cousins from the North’ can act.”

“
What is the latest on that? Do we know anything more?” asked a dark-skinned man who was still wearing sunglasses even though night had fallen and surrounded the yacht in gloom hours ago. Since he had come on board, the other men on the yacht had hardly spoken to him, except for the exchange of the necessary civilities. He was the necessary evil of the group: Abelardo Unzúntia Jimenez, underboss of the powerful Gulf Cartel. If he had been asked he would have let his fellow guests know that he had no qualms about going back the next day to the jail cell where he was supposed to be awaiting the outcome of his deportation trial; he already knew what the outcome would be. The week before, a hundred thousand dollars had been deposited in a Swiss bank account. The number of the account had been mailed to the judge who would “decide” his fate. His cynicism made the others detest him, but his well-known penchant for violence made them fear him as well. The fact that he was there at all was a demonstration of the power and reach of the Gulf Cartel.

“
Our friend who works for our adversaries said that they are ready to move; he thinks that the announcement will come sometime next week, probably Friday so the markets don’t have time to react.”

“
How are they going to do it? Does he know?” asked the underboss.

“
From what he has heard, he thinks that Senator Romero will make the charge during the Senate’s afternoon session; he will state that he has documents that prove that the candidate, Leobardo Contreras, if elected, will ask Congress to legalize drugs; the newspapers and television people will ‘cover’ the story and read the prepared stuff they will have been given, and the President of the United States will be forced to make a statement by Monday or Tuesday.”

“
How will that guarantee that…?” the underboss began to ask.

“
Well,” the President’s cousin continued, “our friend thinks that the U.S. President will send a private letter to President Cervantes urging him to withdraw his support of Leobardo Contreras as his party’s presidential candidate and to start a request for consensus within the party to name another presidential candidate. That’s when Senator Romero’s name will show up on the list, and the rest is easy.”

“
What do you mean ‘the rest is easy’? How can Romero prove what he is saying?”

“
Our friend’s from the north say that their people have got hold of documents that prove that, if elected, Leobardo Contraras will ask Congress to legalize drugs.”

“
Do they exist? I mean the documents?” asked the underboss.

“
Oh, yes, they exist,” said the President’s cousin.

“
How do we know they exist?” insisted the underboss.

“
Because we wrote them,” said Senator Elizondo.

There was a silence. Through the window that had been left open to allow the cigar smoke to exit, the soft, rustling sound of the yacht parting the seawater drifted into the room.

“
Let me explain,” said Senator Elizondo. “When President Echeverría pushed the party into naming Leobardo Contreras as presidential candidate, and his successor, he did so with the understanding that Contreras would include drug legalization in his presidential agenda.”

Alfonso Echeverría, continued. “You see, my cousin, the President, couldn’t openly support that because he wanted the Americans to approve the Bilateral Trade Agreement. So we had to prepare the candidate’s platform and ideas on legalizing drugs. That way, the President could have credible deniability before the Americans. We also had to do demographic studies to see what the people thought; we will need their support, whether we like it or not. Unfortunately, the other side found out about the documents and they have been trying to get hold of them because they not only prove that the future President is going to ask Congress to legalize drugs, but that the present President has secretly supported that agenda.”

“
How did they find out about the documents?” growled the underboss.

Echeverría shrugged and said, “That doesn’t matter. What is important is that they know about them and are trying to get them.”

“
So why don’t you just have them destroyed?” asked the underboss.

Alfonso Echeverría said, “It’s not that simple. There are a lot of documents: surveys we made, emails we sent back and forth between those of us who were handling the project, drafts of speeches for the candidate.” He paused as if thinking and then continued: “We had to gather all of the documents, especially the emails that were in several computers, and then put them in a safe place. And remember, we will need the information when the presidential candidate starts his campaign so we can’t just destroy everything.”

“
Are you sure the documents have been stored in a safe place?” asked Governor Sanchez. “I am especially worried about emails; those concern me directly.”

“
Yes,” said Echeverría, “I was informed by a reliable source that all of the documents are in a safe place.”

“
So, it seems that circumstances will force us to accelerate the execution of our plans; our man will have to act before Friday,” said the underboss.

“
Yes, don Abelardo,” said Echeverría to the underboss, “he will have to be ready before next Friday.”

“
You should have let one of my men handle this,” said don Abelardo.

“
No, don Abelardo. We can’t risk the cartels being blamed. The hit has to seem to come from an unknown source. We can’t risk it
being traced to anyone of us and through us to the President.”