Free The Jaguar by A.T. Grant Page A

testing us to see if they can break into our operations, because we’ve got greedy and we’ve got weak. And you’re part of the weakness, Alfredo.”
    â€œPapa, I took care of business last night. Nobody will mess with us now.”
    â€œYou took care of nada . You’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest. Why do you think I have to extend my stay in this God-forsaken city? Over the border you’ve created two serious crime scenes for the US Authorities. Our family’s name’s written across both. Have you any idea how pissed off the Americans will be? Why, at least, didn’t you dispose of the guy in Juarez? We drive truck-loads of weapons from the US into Mexico every week. Who would care about a Spik with a bit of blood on him?” Paulo paused to catch his breath and his foul temper.
    â€œLuis can’t sort this out alone. Luckily I still have enough influence here to help him. Otherwise this family would be finished.”
    Alfredo remained mute. In all his life it had never occurred to him that his family could be anything other than all-powerful. It was his world; one where you were never held to account.
    â€œI’m sorry, Papa.” He meant it.
    â€œSorry doesn’t cut it anymore. Luis told you many times never to mix work with pleasure. What were you doing at that night club? What were you doing with Barrio Fuerte? Just because you can make a deal with someone doesn’t mean you can trust them. Gennaro is family to us. He is your Godfather. You put him in danger and two of his best men as well.”
    â€œMarcelo invited me. I thought it would be rude to refuse; that it would be safe because they make so much money from our business.”
    Paulo sighed and studied his errant son. How could he have seen so much and be so naive? Under the desk he clasped his hands tightly between his knees. A general dull ache from each joint and a stabbing arthritic pain from a poorly healed, bullet-induced fracture reminded him of how little time he had to repair the damage. Slowly, he began to outline the situation.
    â€œLast night you killed Marcelo’s brother. As you would expect, we have a couple of people high up in their organisation. Gennaro made a call this morning and it was definitely him. We don’t know why he tried to shoot you. The girls you were dancing with were hired hands, presumably meant to distract you. It doesn’t really matter. Barrio Fuerte are dead to us now. We no longer have a way of shifting our product once it’s across the border. Now, all we have on the other side are enemies, ones who’ll almost certainly look to join forces with another family.”
    Once again, Alfredo apologised. He had the urge to hug his father, but this had never been an instinct that he could indulge.
    â€œSomeone is going to try to kill you, Alfredo. Someone is going to want to demonstrate their strength. You’ve made yourself a target for anyone who wants to make a name. Even the CIA may decide it’s time for a change of family here. If they send someone after you, we may not be able to stop them. If you die, it would be the end of me and of your Uncle Felipe too. If you’re killed then everyone would know we can’t protect our people. You’ll have to go away. That means Europe.” Paulo paused again to snatch more air. “We have a new way of laundering our profits. They go into a sports bicycle manufacturing company near Madrid, which retails mainly in Great Britain. I want you to show a family face in London. As far as the English end of the business is concerned, you’re Spanish, so you’d better work on your Spanish and your English. Check the money is getting through. We’ve someone there to help you forward it to our bank in Texas.”
    It was a stupid argument, but it brought Alfredo out of his reverie. Global warming! Why, in the coldest, dampest country he had ever experienced, were people on TV