Free Rosarito Beach by M. A. Lawson

who didn’t protest was U.S. Marshal Kevin Walker. He just sat there rubbing his big chin, apparently mulling over everything Jim Davis had said.
    Kay figured that Judge Foreman might take a little time to come to a conclusion, but he didn’t. He said, “Although I believe Caesar Olivera may have the capability suggested by Mr. Davis, and may intend to take some drastic action to free his brother, I refuse to let the legal institutions of the United States cower in fear. As I said, this is not Mexico. Mr. Olivera will be arraigned tomorrow morning in my courtroom as scheduled, and you people will all do your jobs to make sure that happens.”
    As a result of Benton Foreman’s refusal to cower, eighteen people would die.
    â€”
    T he press conference went about the way Kay had expected.
    Jim Davis gave a very terse, very formal statement regarding how Tito Olivera had been arrested for killing one Ronald “Cadillac” Washington, how DEA agents arrested two of Mr. Olivera’s men, and how Leon James was shot and killed. He stated that Mr. Olivera had been a “person of interest” for some time regarding his connections to narcotics trafficking in California. He made no mention of Tito’s big brother.
    The first question asked was: “Is it true that Kay Hamilton, the DEA agent who killed Marco Álvarez in Miami, was the agent who arrested Tito Olivera?”
    This question may have surprised Davis, but it didn’t surprise Kay. Half an hour earlier, she had called the reporter who asked the question—and told her that she should ask it. The reporter was a good-looking redhead who anchored the local news on Channel 8, and Kay had leaked information to her in the past when she thought it might do her career some good. She occasionally had drinks with the reporter as well.
    Davis responded to the question by saying, “The DEA does not release the names of DEA personnel involved in arrests.”
    But the cameras focused on Kay, and she knew the following morning the papers would discuss her killing Marco Álvarez and three of his men in Miami, and how twenty-seven people were eventually convicted thanks to her efforts.
    Kay figured that she’d had a pretty good day. Maybe she’d treat herself to a couple martinis and a steak at Morton’s.

9
    R aphael Mora watched as Caesar Olivera spoke quietly with Tito’s lawyer.
    They were in Caesar’s home office at Caesar’s Sinaloa estate; the desk Caesar sat behind had once belonged to Archduke Maximilian of Hapsburg, Emperor of Mexico from 1864 to 1867. The telephone was not an antique; it was encrypted. Caesar ended the conversation by saying, “Thank you, Mr. Prescott,” and gently placed the phone handset back into its cradle.
    Mora knew the calmness Caesar was displaying was a façade. He knew that Caesar was so angry about the idiotic thing his brother had done that he wanted to take the phone and beat it on his expensive desk until it shattered—but he also knew that Caesar would never do that.
    Raphael Mora had worked for Caesar Olivera for almost twenty years, and he remembered how Caesar had been when he was younger. He watched him beat three cousins to death one time by smashing their faces with a claw hammer; when Caesar was finished, his face was so covered with blood it looked like he was wearing a wet, red mask.
    Caesar had willed himself to become a different person. Now he rarely raised his voice. He prided himself on remaining unemotional, logical, and coldly analytical no matter how he might feel about a situation. He had little formal education, but he read extensively; he particularly liked to read management books, because that’s how he now thought of himself: as a CEO.
    Caesar was forty-five years old. He was a handsome man, although not as handsome as Tito. And unlike his younger half brother, Caesar looked Hispanic; he and Tito had different mothers. His hair was