CHAPTER 3: JAVIER

6 months later…

If there's one thing I've learned over the last 18 years it took me to build my cartel, it's that liars can be spotted in so many different ways from a mile ahead. I have no idea whether it actually takes so much effort to spot a liar or maybe it just comes naturally to me. I'll go with the latter.

First, they try so hard to contain their labored breaths by trying not to breathe for a few seconds. This act is to trick the heart into believing that all is well so the hard thumping reduces. While that happens, beads of sweat will begin to form in their hairline, which then slowly trickle down their temple. 

There's also that mild twitching and uncountable blinking of the eyes. Then there's the most obvious which is when they begin to stutter. Of course, stuttering could also indicate that the said person is nervous. But not when he's also guilty of all four acts at once.

It takes a deep form of observation and focus to spot these little details. 

Turning to my right-hand man, Carlos, I let him know that I've found my man. “You can let the others go. It's him I want.” 

Carlos nods and exits my home office.

“Wa…wait! Boss, I swear I'm not…” He shuts up when I cut him an intense stare. 

“Robbie?” Pushing my chair back, I walk to his kneeling form in front of my desk and cross my arms over my chest.

“Ye…Yes, boss. My name is Robbie Castello.” He says, like I didn't already know that. If I was anything like my Uncle, Robbie would regret ever mentioning his last name to me. His family would disappear from the surface of the earth and he wouldn't even know why or when it happened. 

“Let's start again, shall we? Tell me everything, and the truth this time. What the fuck happened to my drugs?”

He nods profusely, wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and begins talking. “He, uh… I met him months ago, boss.” 

“I need a name, Robbie.”

“Richard Perez. Tha…that's his name, boss. He said he lost his home to a bet at Flores’ casino three months ago and didn't want his family knowing about it. So he contacted me and said he needed some kilograms of heroin which he would sell for me so he could add his price to it. He was able to pay up the money in place of his home… but… he stopped answering my calls after the first week, boss. I'm sorry. I didn't know he would run with it.” 

“Hmm. And what did he give you to keep your mouth shut?” I walk around him. It's an intimidating tactic, considering his position on the floor. 

“Nothing.” He blinks three times in under thirty seconds. “He…he gave me nothing.” If I had blinked, I would have missed the twitching of his eyes too.

“Wrong answer.” I mutter. With the speed of light, I unveil my Glock 20 from the waistband of the back of my suit pants and send a bullet to Robbie’s left thighs. 

His scream instantly lights up the room. “Okay okay, I'm sorry.” His sobs make a bubble of catarrh blow out from his nose. “He gave me a land.” 

Pathetic.

“And how many of that have I given you, Robbie?” He mutters a figure under his breath but I want him to be louder. “Speak up.”

“Seven, boss.” 

“Good.” My tone is dead flat like it always is. I don't believe in yelling when I can still pass my message across by speaking normally. I guess that's what frightens people about me. They find it difficult to predict my mood. “I have given you seven lands in total within the U.S. and back at home. Then one guy gives you one more and you suddenly see it as gold, huh? You didn't think you would get caught?” He nods at my question. 

He really would have gotten away with it if Carlos hadn't put it in my head to do a count of the past three months' drug income. Usually, that's what I pay Robbie to do but I guess his greed got the best of him. If he's telling the truth and Richard Perez actually went AWOL with my drug money, I will find him. 

“I'm sorry, boss. I promise to be a better person.” 

“Maybe in your next life.” I say before emptying the rest of my magazine into his torso. As if on cue, Carlos re-enters my office with two of the Sandoval cartel cleaners who immediately get to work disposing of Robbie’s corpse.

“Have five hundred thousand sent to his wife and kids in Mexico. Also, let one of the lawyers transfer the deeds of his lands to the family as well.” 

“Yes, boss. Anything else?” 

“Find me Richard Perez. To narrow down the search, he owed Flores a debt three months ago. Have someone track him down right now.” 

“On it, boss.” Carlos says and leaves the office while the cleaners scrub the ground clean. 

This isn't the first time something like this has happened in the cartel. I always send one of my subordinates to take care of such nuisances but the only difference is that those problems stemmed from Mexico. This is the first I've had here in New Orleans and what better way to handle it than being there myself?