Excerpt of Sudden Justice by Les Hoffman

El Gato took another sip of his coffee and looked at his wife and daughters across the table, laughing over their dessert. La Bamba had become their favorite restaurant over the previous three weeks. After the local TV news reporters had so rudely interrupted them during their initial visit, he had spoken to the owner. Now, private tables and a balcony were permanently reserved for them throughout their stay.

He was "news" to the Americans, who seemed to crave entertainment and salacious stories to fill the emptiness of their lives. But in his reality, he was just a family man, doing what was necessary to make a living.

The American journalists had denounced his entry into the Texas illegal drug market as a new threat to American youth, and pointed out the danger of Mexican drug cartel violence spilling over inside U.S. borders. But El Gato knew that this was not his problem. He was simply filling a need, a void, which would surely be filled by someone else, if not him.

It had been difficult this last week, but now it was over. He was enjoying touring the city with his wife and daughters again and just relaxing for a change. He glanced at his bodyguards, Roberto and Hector. They also happened to be his nephews. The two of them were openly flirting with a waitress at the table across from his. The big-breasted blonde seemed to welcome their advances. They look a little too relaxed. Then again, it had been a stressful experience for everyone, including them.

The year before, El Gato had made a major move into the South Texas market. He had spent time putting together a detailed business plan, and then implemented it to perfection. He first moved into San Antonio with a chain of nightclubs catering to the younger, affluent population. Once established, he began to make similar inroads into Austin and Houston. The clubs served as controlled locations in which to make the necessary business arrangements and agreements. On the advice of his lawyers, he used only juvenile Mexican national youths as the runners to deliver the product. They were virtually untouchable by the American authorities. The few who'd been caught had been deported back to Mexico. The drugs themselves were shipped in an ingenious manner that El Gato himself had first conceived.

Using hybrid vehicles, his men stripped out the guts of their massive battery packs and replaced them with cocaine and heroin bundles. The packs were hermetically sealed and power washed before placing them back into the cars. Each vehicle was then sniff-tested by one of the Mexican federal police canine teams before being declared road-ready. El Gato considered the mordida paid to the federales for their cooperation a minor business expense. A little extra insurance for the shipment of product across the border. Just another of the small details that make the difference between success and failure.

And El Gato was good at details. He enjoyed the challenge of circumventing law enforcement on both sides of the border. The mental exercise of seeing potential obstacles and removing them. Imposing his will on others, often without their knowledge. He could be ruthless, even cruel at times, but outsmarting his enemies gave him intense pleasure. Almost an aphrodisiac.

Then last week, while vacationing with his family no less, the American police in San Antonio had unexpectedly taken him into custody.

El Gato still fumed at the arrogance, the hubris, of the American authorities.

His lawyers had told him to say nothing. The U.S. had no jurisdiction to search his facilities, tap his communications, or hold him for questioning without his cooperation. That assertion was put to the test, and ultimately proven correct. After listening to their threats and intimidation, his lawyers got him released.

El Gato laughed aloud at how easy it had really been. His laughter fit right in with his wife and daughter’s conversation. Life is good. With just a little cultural understanding and ingenuity, he'd been able to use the weaknesses of his home country to expose and exploit the weaknesses of America.

Maybe I'll write a book about it. I could be the Mexican version of Warren Buffet. Maybe Good Morning America would interview me at home. El Gato laughed aloud once more.