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.