What's Done Is Done E-Book

Brian Hiley

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 194

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Pablo Escobar is dead and the Medellin cartel is now run by La Officina de Envigado. Their operation is under threat from a whistle blower who is preparing to supply the FBI and DEA with vital information about distribution routes through Miami, a devastating blow to the cartel. The information is hidden away, which results in a frantic race for both sides following the trail to retrieve it. Intervention from a loner, leaving violence and death in his wake, moves this tense thriller through three continents, with sex and brutality. Will he succeed in his mission and settle old scores.

Leseprobe

Thanks to my wife Debbie, for her artistic input

and support.

To my sister Beryl, guardian of the family library.

To all the salsa musicians and singers, past and

present, who give me pleasure from their music.

Brian Hiley

What’s Done

Is Done

Brian Hiley has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

© 2018 Brian Hiley

Cover, Illustrations: ebp

Editing: el Brujo

Publisher: tredition

Paperback   978-3-7482-0225-7

Hardcover   978-3-7482-0226-4

eBook          978-3-7482-0227-1

All rights reserved

THE CARTEL

During the 1980s, there was great unrest in Colombia, a war was raging with various factions involved, which included the Colombian government. The FARC (Peoples Army) was a left-wing faction with thousands of supporters and was funded by kidnap and ransom as well as levying taxes on drug traffickers.

The Cartel was formed by Pablo Escobar the head of the operation in Medellin together with Gonzalo Rodriguez Gacha who was in control of the cartel in Cali. They joined forces to control and supply illegal drugs out of Colombia. Escobar was in overall control while Gacha built up the Cartel’s army of sicarios (hired guns) by hiring British and Israeli mercenaries. Being a hired gun for the Cartel meant work for many poor young Colombians, who rarely lived beyond the age of twenty-two years before being gunned down. The Medellín Cartel was an empire of stunning sweep and unimaginable violence. At its height, it earned as much as $4 billion a year, most of it cash, for its members and controlled 80 percent of the cocaine supply in the United States, leaving tens of thousands of corpses in its wake. Violence ruled as Escobar’s motto was 'plato o plomo' (silver or lead) take a bribe or take a bullet.

They united with right wing death squads and paramilitary groups to fight against the FARC. In the eighties, such was the demand for cocaine, the cartel took control of Normans Cay, a Bahamian island, where large shipments of cocaine were flown in and transferred to smaller planes for the onward journey to the USA via Florida.

The pilots would drop the cargo then ditch the plane in the sea, where a boat would be waiting to save the pilot, such was the huge profit from drugs, to fund this. Cocaine was also supplied inside refridgeraters, tv sets, mixed with Guatamalan fruit pulp and also soaked in blue jeans, the substance being extracted by chemists before distribution.

Escobar rallied support from the poor by building housing where the government wouldn’t, the people praised him for what he did and saw him as a modern day, Robin Hood. Shootings and killings were commonplace in this area of Colombia, making it a dangerous place to be at night, as violence and murder ruled the day.

If loyalty didn’t work brutal violence did.

Chapter 1

The alarm sounded at 6am but José Perez was already awake, the morning was bright and sunny with a light breeze from the coast, a good day for everyone. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom, shaved and showered. Am I doing the right thing, he kept asking himself, but his decision had been made and the deal agreed, there was no possibility of changing his mind. He had a light breakfast and went to his Mercedes, a car he had dreamed of owning when he was a teenager in Colombia.

He came to America fifteen years ago with his daughter, settled in Miami and had set up his company Perez Importing. He had prospered as the business thrived and now lived in Coral Gables, a city near Miami, in Florida. It is home to the 1920s Venetian Pool, carved from a rock quarry, with its grottoes, towers and bridge. Coral Gables was founded by George Merrick whose childhood home has been restored as a memorial to him. Located here is the Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden which includes tree-lined lakes, a tropical rainforest and a butterfly display, while the collections at Lowe Art Museum include Cuban and Caribbean works. For recreation, there is the sprawling Matheson Hammock Park which features a beach popular for water sports including sailing, kiteboarding and stand-up paddle boarding. To the south of Coral Gables is the Montgomery Botanical Centre, known for its palms, cyads and rare tropical plants. Life for him was enjoyable here and he was thankful to everyone who had assisted him in his success since coming to America and settling in Miami. Now, he considered the time was right to make a change to the current situation and he was on his way to see his lawyer and friend of fourteen years Michael Gambini. They first met at a business convention when he was launching his importing business. Fifteen years, he thought, fifteen years of importing goods from Mexico, Panama, China, Colombia and a whole host of other countries including Europe. Goods consisting of blue jeans, coffee, tobacco, biscuits, fine art and other goods which he could not even remember. His decision to make a change had not come lightly and he was on his way to see Michael to complete what he viewed as security for the future, for himself and his daughter Susana. He placed his briefcase on the rear seat, sat in the driving seat thinking of his daughter Susana Maria Perez, the only family he had and considered she would also be safe for the future. There was no turning back now. 'A lo hecho pecho', said José, what’s done is done. He drove away from the house with a settled mind.

Chapter 2

Xavier Benitez sat on the patio by the swimming pool under a canopy shielded from the morning sun, where he ate breakfast and read the newspaper. He resided at Miami Beach, Miami Dade County, a south Florida island city connected via bridges to mainland Miami. It boasts wide beaches which stretch from the Open Space Park at North Shore, past palm lined Lummus Park, to South Pointe Park. At the southern end, well known for its international cachet with models and celebrities is South Beach, with its early twentieth century architecture in the Art Deco style, in the historic district, with pastel coloured buildings especially on Ocean Drive. The land was originally purchased for seventy-five cents an acre in 1870 as it was uninhabitable. Development investment came over the years with the first hotel being constructed in 1915 which still stands on Ocean Drive. In 1959, a wave of Cuban immigrants flooded this area of Miami after the rise of Fidel Castro and today has a very large Hispanic population and is home to wealthy people and visitors from all over the world. He lived in a large mediteranian style property built in the nineteen thirties which, despite improvements over the years, the building had obvious signs, which were still visible, of the art deco period when it was constructed.

He was in his late fifties, a short man of five feet six inches and portly with thinning hair and had been overseeing the distribution routes through Miami for the last five years where he ran a tight organisation. He was a very wealthy man who admired loyalty as long as the loyalty was for himself. He was ruthless and his distribution routes had thrived under his rule. A while later, he took a brief swim as he did every morning, believing that regular exercise was good for the mind and assisted him in running a tight organisation, as mistakes were not tolerated lightly by his employers La Oficina de Envigado and usually the consequences for mistakes was a severe penalty to pay. He exited the pool, dried himself and donned a monogrammed towelling robe, sat down and relaxed under the canopy by the pool. On the table by his side was a slim wooden box which bore the label Cohiba Cigars. He opened it and took out a large hand rolled cigar, slicing the end with a mechanical cutter in the guise of a French guillotine which amused him. He took a zippo lighter which was emblazoned with his initials and played the end of the cigar in the flame until it was a grey ash colour, put the cigar in his mouth, puffed on the cigar and started to smoke it while relaxing in the wicker chair smiling to himself, enjoying the aroma while he waited for a phone call he was expecting. The day was going to be a good one he thought.

Chapter 3

The journey to see his lawyer at his office was not a long one for José and traffic was light. He travelled down the main highway and slowed as he approached the major cross roads, but the lights were in his favour and he passed through the junction, travelled a little farther down the road, then made a right into the parking lot in the basement of the building where his lawyer Michael Gambini had his legal office. He parked his car, collected his briefcase and stepped out of the Mercedes and headed for the elevator, entered and pressed the button for the tenth floor. The doors closed and the elevator juddered slightly, as it began to ascend. The elevator stopped, dinged and the doors opened. He stepped from the elevator and was greeted by a woman, Gambini’s secretary.

'Good morning Mr Perez' she said with a smile

'please go right in, Mr Gambini is expecting you'

He entered the office and Michael Gambini stood up, held out his hand and gave José a firm friendly handshake and welcome. The door to the office closed. It was a good sized office with filing cabinets on the left hand wall and a large oak desk behind which sat Michael Gambini. On the desk were a few open files, a rolodex and a telephone. Behind the desk was a large window which allowed natural daylight to flood into the office, giving it an airy feel. Michael was almost six feet tall with dark hair and dark skin and quite handsome. He wore a light linen business suit and white shirt which contrasted with his skin colour. He too was of Colombian origin and had made a name for himself as a business lawyer in Miami.

'would you like a coffee?' asked Michael

'no thank you. My visit today will be brief'

'please sit down my friend. What can I do for you?'

He sat down in front of the office desk opposite Michael and opened his briefcase, took out two wax sealed envelopes and explained to Michael that the envelopes were not to be opened or revealed to anyone until the event of his death. Michael looked puzzled.

'Are you alright José?' he asked.

'Yes, I am fine and well. It is merely a precaution and security for my daughter Susana'. He handed the envelopes to Michael who took them to his office safe, opened it and locked them securely away for future use. 'Your wishes will be fulfilled my friend and I wish you well'. 'Thank you' said Jose with a smile, 'now I must leave, I have other business to attend to'. They shook hands and parted company. 'Goodbye Mr Perez' called the secretary, 'goodbye' he replied and took the elevator back to the basement parking area. When the elevator doors opened, the parking lot was very dimly lit but he paid little attention to it, walked to his car, opened the door of the Mercedes, put his briefcase in the rear then sat in the driver’s seat and closed the door. He started the engine and drove out of the parking lot and made a left heading east to his home. Michael Gambini picked up the telephone in his office, dialled a number and made a short call. 'Thank you Michael' said the voice at the other end, then hung up.

The heavy cement truck was travelling south, at the wheel was Rafe Gonzalez, a Mexican. He was sweating and kept taking a drink from a liquor bottle in a paper bag which was in a secure holder on the dashboard. He was travelling faster than allowed and was not concentrating on his surroundings or the road. He took another drink from the liquor bottle, then placed it back in the holder. All he could think about was his debts and his poor way of life but hoped that soon it would all change for the better.

José was now in a positive mood as he approached the crossroads where once again the lights were in his favour and he continued ahead.

Rafe Gonzalez ignored the red light at the crossroads, passing straight through, continued on and hit the mercedes directly on the left side pushing it onwards with the force of the impact from the cement truck. There was a screeching of tyres and metal until the two vehicles came to a stop. Rafe wiped the sweat from his face then leapt from the cab of the truck and looked briefly at the Mercedes he had just hit. He was temporarily stunned at what he saw, a crushed vehicle with a dying man inside gasping for air, taking his last few breaths of what little life was left inside of him. Rafe was unsure what to do as he was scared as more trouble was not what he needed. He quickly looked around, he had done as instructed, then ran off as quickly as he could. José Perez died at the scene.

Chapter 4

The hearse entered the cemetery with two cars following. It was an austere place with rows of headstones marking graves and larger family crypts, a place where people came to mourn the dead of their family. Some graves had fresh flowers on them while others sported fading blooms which had been placed there days previously. Two men were digging a new hole in the ground as they passed while in another area, a service was already under way with solemn grace.

In the first car was Susana Perez with Michael Gambini. The second car had two passengers also, two men, one who had been a local acquaintance and one who was a loyal employee of the deceased. The loyal employee was Aleks Volevski a bodyguard José had hired for his daughter’s safety. He was her driver and travelled everywhere with her. Now aged fifty, Aleks was overweight, six feet tall and a beast of a man. He was of east European origin, the kind of person you would not want to make an enemy of. Susana was fond of him and had nicknamed him Folic, as he had an acid stare which burned through you. Also as a child, she found it difficult to say his name Volevski correctly, it always came out as Folicsi. Aleks did not mind. She had been in his charge from the age of eight and their fondness for each other was mutual like family.

They stood at the grave side as the priest made his incantations and Susana constantly sobbed at the loss of her father as Michael did his best to comfort her. She was slender dressed in black as befitted the situation, with a black veil covering her face, she was aged twenty-three years old. She and her father had left Colombia when she was eight years old. She was named Susana Maria, Maria being her mother’s name, who died shortly after giving birth. Her father who was only seventeen at the time and had done his best to provide for her in Colombia but times were hard, where drug trafficking and murders were the norm in Medellin. She and her father had left Colombia in nineteen eighty-four and moved to Miami where she was privately schooled and her father’s import business had thrived. She had travelled to Europe and the UK where she adored London and Covent Garden along with the nightlife. The mourners looked on as the coffin was lowered into the hole in the ground and one by one, they all cast a handful of soil into the hole saying their farewell to José Perez. A short distance away, was a black limousine with the rear window slightly open. The occupant in the rear seat was smoking a large Cohiba cigar as he peered through the gap at the burial proceedings. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, he said to himself, 'a lo hecho pecho'. The limousine window closed with an almost silent whirr, leaving a plume of smoke outside to rise and disappear into the air like magic. 'Take me home' the passenger said to the driver and the limousine moved slowly and gracefully away, as it left the cemetery.

As Susana and Michael journeyed back to Coral gables Michael asked her to come and see him at his office when she was ready, to finalise the paperwork regarding her late fathers company and last will and testament.

She agreed to call him in approximately two weeks as she had decided to take a short break to try and come to terms with the sudden loss of her father and to decide on her future plans.

Chapter 5

Two weeks later Susana arrived back in Miami, she could not face going back to Coral Gables and checked into a hotel with her bodyguard Folic. He never spoke much, just tended to the wishes of his now employer and charge, who treated him well as always. She rang Michael and arranged to meet him at his office the next morning at 11am.The next day, Folic was already waiting in the hotel lobby for Susana to come down for breakfast at 9am. The elevator doors opened and she stepped out. She was wearing a white shirt with the collar turned up and a pair of slim fitting trousers which showed her shapely figure. Her hair was dark and tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes sparkled as she walked towards him.

'Morning Miss, how are you today' he smiled

'Good morning Folic' he smiled again, 'I’m good and please for the nth time stop calling me miss' she gave him a big smile.' Shall we go to breakfast?'

'Ok' said Folic and they went through to the restaurant and seated themselves at a table where the waiter greeted them both and took their order. As usual Folic liked his food and ate eggs, bacon and pancakes while Susana had her usual fruit and a small amount of cereal, both had black coffee and juice.

On their journey to Michaels office she wondered what paperwork needed to be completed and hoped that it was nothing more than a signature. She knew little of her late fathers’ business affairs except that he imported goods into America. With any luck, the business would still function without her having to take a hands on roll as she knew very little about it. Her disposition leaned more towards the arts than the importation of coffee and clothes etc. They travelled on the same stretch of road and passed through the crossroad junction where her father had died. She held back her tears as Folic comforted her with kind words, from the driving seat. Once in the basement parking lot, Folic got out of the car and opened the door for Susana. 'Thank you Folic, for everything' she said. Folic just smiled and escorted her to the elevator and selected the button for the tenth floor, the doors closed and the elevator made its ascent before stopping at the chosen level. A ding was heard and the doors opened, they stepped out from the elevator and the doors closed silently behind them.

'Good morning Miss Perez, may I offer my deepest sympathy for your loss. Mr Perez was a good man' said the secretary. 'Thank you for your kind words. Is Michael free?', 'Yes, please go right in'. Susana entered Michaels office and the door closed. Folic remained in the reception area and took a seat, taking ample space for his large torso. The secretary always felt uneasy in his presence but he gave her a smile and she offered him coffee which he declined. Michael rose from his seat and walked around the desk to greet Susana. They kissed each other on the cheek then both sat down opposite each other with the desk in between them.

'How are you Susana?, such a terrible tragedy to happen'

'I’m coming to terms with it and hopefully time will heal, but I will miss him as he was always there for me'

'You still have Folic looking out for you and I am your friend'

'I know'

'He cares for you like an uncle'

'I know. He has always been a rock for me'.

'So, Susana, I require you to sign some papers and then there is another matter I must discuss with you', she looked puzzled, what could it be. Michael presented the papers for signing which transferred legal ownership of her late fathers’ company to herself. He assured her that the business would function without much involvement from her, as he would continue with the legal requirements of Perez Importing. She duly signed the documents in triplicate, Susana Maria Perez. 'What’s the other matter?' she asked. Michael took a breath and a pause before speaking. He explained, 'Before your father died, he came to see me. He gave me two wax sealed envelopes to keep safely, with strict instructions that they were not to be opened until after his death, which unfortunately and sadly was sooner than expected.

One envelope was for myself which I have opened. Inside were written instructions for me to carry out explicitly, which I have completed while you were away'.

'What were the instructions?'.

'I had to engage an investigator and find the whereabouts of a man and if he was still alive'.

'And is he?'

'He is. His name is Tom Carrick an Englishman, alive and living in the UK. I have the address here. I am instructed to give these details to you along with the second envelope which is addressed to you'. Susana felt faint, so much she did not understand, what was happening, an Englishman she had never heard of and a sealed envelope for her. She took the envelope and the information on Carrick from Michael and placed them in her purse.

'If there is anything further I can do for you, please ask. I’m here for you as a friend and your lawyer'. Said Michael.

'Thank you, but now I need to think about this and see what is in the envelope for me, which my father must have considered to be important'. She stood to leave. 'I understand, Take care Susana, see