It Ain't Paranoia if... Pt. 02 Ch. 01

The vast majority of his underlings and soldiers didn't care about the divestments because they were making more money than ever. Entrepreneurs and pure capitalists, they supplied what their customers demanded; that it was illegal in the US, or in some states in the US, was merely semantics. When demand is greater than supply, profits are high.

Profits were high from two main sources: supplying the Norte Americanos with the various illegal drugs they crave and will pay ridiculous amounts to acquire, and from smuggling frightened refugees from central American and Mexico into Los Estados Unidos, where they believe jobs, riches, and safety from gangs and cartels awaits.

Reality would later prove disappointing to many of the emigrants, but they had walked hundreds of miles to get to the border, only to be turned back. Without other options, they paid their 'benefactors', and were taken far enough beyond La Frontera to avoid La Migre, a common name for the US Border Patrol. Some were taken to their destination cities, but more were taken inland and dumped far from their desired destinations.

Many of the women would become housekeepers in businesses, homes, and hotels, waiters and cooks in restaurants and food trucks, or employees of other businesses and organizations in desperate need of help, as exemplified by the ubiquitous HELP WANTED signs and reduced hours posted for so many businesses.

The men tended to end up in construction, landscaping, lawn care, roadwork, fence building, and agricultural jobs, but those with more skills and education, male or female, had other choices.

Nubile, pretty young women often ended up in the sex trade, by choice or by coercion.

As he was doing even before taking control of the cartel, Raymundo invested their entrepreneurial profits in legitimate enterprises that also made surprising profits, while providing well-paid jobs for Mexicans in Mexico. Other cartels and some of his own people questioned his toughness and leadership at first, but his ruthless responses to attempted power grabs soon disabused them of the wisdom of that notion.

I knew he might have higher standards than some, but he was still a dangerous gangster. Fortunately, he was a dangerous gangster who owed his position to me, and who, so far, had honored his debt.

Both Raymundo and Carlos had friends and relations among the indigenous peoples of the state, and it was Raymundo who had emboldened some of the young men by sending word they might receive weapons if they organized and trained for battle.

Their goal was to repel those who had caused their people to suffer so much for so long; namely the Juarezistas and Sinaloans.

We learned later that Mundo included a second condition to their acquisition of arms; to assist in destroying the bloody gang who had taken residence in a box canyon north of El Granero, and help rescue the hostages they held.

The State of Chihuahua in which I lay, and in which my family is held, has housed wars between and among indigenous peoples, rebels, various government supporters and government haters, rebels and federal armies, and organized gangs for several centuries. The contemporary state of affairs with the cartels is only the current iteration.

More relevant to me, certain of the rebel Juarezistas and Escamillans had come together, attracted members from other outlaw gangs, and established themselves in the mountainous desert where we lay. At some point, they would draw the attention and enmity of the Sinaloans that felt they were the rightful 'owners' of this land, but right now they were merely a fly buzzing around the butt of a powerful bull, unworthy of the effort of even being swatted.

Ignored, they were busy making fentanyl, growing, refining, and exporting opium products, and even some marijuana, which went into states where it is still illegal. They also filled the markets for sex trafficking, kidnappings, and murder-for-hire abandoned by Escamilla.

This is the gang responsible for the kidnapping of my family and the murder of their two-man security detail, and they had crowed loudly about it. For some of the gang's leadership, that I was the man who killed Reynaldo Escamilla was a factor for accepting the contract, but the fact that I could and would pay a $10,000,000 ransom for my family was the deciding factor.

Playing both ends against the middle, they intended to fulfill the contract and turn Kaitlyn, Grace, and Dos over to the contractor, but only after they got the $10 million from me! After that, they would ambush and kill me, fulfilling that contract.

The snatch, grab, and run maneuver at Fort Davis Elementary was well organized and executed. The local authorities were distracted by reports of active shooters at the elementary school, and then by the bodies of the Ultimate Solutions security personnel they found in the idling Suburban, who had been shot in the back of the head.

It took hours before they realized that a mother and her two children had been kidnapped, and by then it was too late. They had crossed into Ojinaga at Presidio, and disappeared into the desert.

The FBI descended on Fort Davis, as did media from around the state and nation. Dealing with the uproar set efforts to find his family back even further, and the Sheriff could only apologize when Rob flew back in from the South Dakota oil shale fields.

Rob had immediately contacted Mundo, who quickly learned who did it and why.

The 'whys' were a new reward offered for Kaitlyn and the two children, a bounty on Rob, and the opportunity to destroy the man responsible for the death of Reynaldo Escamilla.

The origin of the reward and bounty on the dark web was unclear: it could be a rogue state, a terrorist organization, one of the rich and powerful men facing prison, or anyone else. Mundo assured him there was no evidence a Mexican cartel offered the reward, but Rob remained skeptical; he was certain one was tied in somehow.

He did, however, believe the dark web chatter that the contract was taken by group headed by Reynaldo's former lieutenants who had broken away from the Escamilla Cartel after Raymundo took over. The chatter said it was in retribution for the ambush of their leader; he figured it was more about the money.

The US and Mexican governments issued dire warnings and threats, but once the diplomats got involved any assistance for a cross-borders excursion was months away, if ever!

The DEA and their Policia Federal Ministerial compatriots offered their assistance, but I shied away from those offers. Too many agents tasked with stopping the flow of drugs had been corrupted by the plethora of dollars waved in front of their underpaid noses.

No, if it were going to get done, the brothers, I, and select members of the security team, would have to do it -- ninety miles deep in Mexico, in territory held by organized and well-armed gangs, many of whom were recruited from the ranks of the municipal, state, and national police, or the National Guard. It was a daunting task.

Bringing all our 'stuff' would be tantamount to an armed invasion, so that was out. We were relying on receiving weapons from Raymundo and/or Carlos at our third stop, and hoping our purported allies would be similarly armed. It had been promised, but that was three days ago.

Raymundo made it clear he would not commit men -- he and the Sinaloans had achieved an uneasy truce that required that each stay out of the territory of the other. But he had promised weapons, and the weapons cached in the cave when we arrived a day ago were U. S. military grade. Did the same apply to our allies, assuming they had decided to make a stand at this distant and remote location?

Without communication equipment, which we feared would be monitored using sophisticated devices like those used by the military, we were 'flying blind' - trusting in the plan conceived before we left.

There was nothing to do but wait, and milling the situation over and over in my mind was driving me mad, so I cleared my mind and took myself into a 'green spot' filled with pleasant memories.

****

Despite all her sexual innuendo and insinuations to the larger group, once we were in Carlos' bomb shelter Kaitlyn had been all business. "Take a seat there and let me get that shirt off you!" she ordered as soon as the door closed.

Fortunately, the shirt was so loose it came off easily; she examined both wounds, and lit into me.

"You pulled both your wounds open! What were you thinking, running around with a huge gun like that and shooting at armed helicopters? WITH ONE ARM! There are dozens of trained men here who are getting paid to take care of us! Why must YOU be the hero?"

I sat quietly with my head lowered; she didn't really expect an answer anyway, she was just fussing at me like I was eight year-old Dos.

I finally affected what I hoped was a contrite look, and raised my eyes. She wasn't buying it; she still looked furious.

Once the adrenaline began wearing off and the pain increased, I was asking myself the same questions. Now I could tell that whatever I had done would require more than Clay's attempt to stop the bleeding, and I knew Dr. Wang would not be pleased. However, I certainly wasn't looking forward to going back to the hospital!

Kaitlyn composed a message on her phone, took close up pictures of the bleeding wounds, and then sent a text to someone.

She stood glaring over me for a minute after she lowered her phone, and then burst into tears and embraced me. I held her with my right arm, gritted my teeth, and ignored the pain in my ribs from her tight hug and convulsive sobbing.

Dr. Wang's return call stressed the urgency of immediate treatment, and the helicopter pilot who brought the dignitaries out to the ranch, when confronted by a distraught Kaitlyn, quickly agreed to copter me directly to the hospital. She and four of Claude's top men went along to protect me - and the hospital.

Claude assured me more personnel would follow, because, even then, none of us believed this mess was over.

Sure, we thwarted the attack, but there was too much money at stake, and too many powerful and egotistical men were affected and at risk. Cleaning this up was going to take months, assuming the government found the will to do the right thing; in the meantime, the danger remained.

The kids were happy to stay at the ranch with their 'uncles', Carlo's swimming pool, and his horses, but after two days they insisted on going to see Mommy and Daddy!

Their arrival in an armored Suburban escorted by several vehicles of security personnel approximated that of an oil sheik or a member of the royal family, and the hospital staff treated them like royalty as well.

They were such good kids they were oblivious to the special treatment; they just wanted to see their parents!

After refastening the wounds (more staples and stitches) when we arrived, Dr. Wang took his turn at chewing me out. When he was through, and I was affecting my properly contrite look, he told the med techs to bring in a rollaway bed so Kaitlyn could keep an eye on me 24/7.

She didn't have much to do for the next eight hours or so, because they shot me up and I went to sleep. I awoke hungry but still hurting, so she fed me, literally, and gave me more pain medication. I went back to sleep.

The five am doctors' rounds the next morning shook my weariness, and I discovered I badly needed coffee and breakfast. Kaitlyn ordered two hospital breakfasts, but asked one of our guards to go get some decent coffee. He eagerly agreed, because everyone on duty by now knew better than to get the weak hospital stuff. He returned with a boxful, including two each for Kait and me. We thanked him profusely, and he thanked us for having him go get it.

Claude came in at nine to give us an update, and it was a doozy. It seems the POTUS was mightily offended by any number of things. That included the blatant misrepresentation in his briefing regarding the events that transpired in the Texas Alps; the failure to fully inform him about the air attack on the former Attorney General and Secretary of State and the subsequent attack on Carlos' ranch; and the failure of the FBI and CIA to undertake an appropriate investigation of those events.

He was also hot about the FBI agent and CIA case officer working on behalf of rogue clients without either agency knowing about it.

But if those things pissed him off, he was enraged by the involvement of the elected US Senators and representatives in the scheme to circumvent sanctions against North Korea and Venezuela, and their involvement in deals with terror organizations and drug cartels, but it was their sanctioning of the attacks on American citizens on American soil that truly infuriated him!

Heads had rolled, headhunters had been dispatched for more heads, audits were underway, congressional hearings were scheduled, and resignations had been demanded and tendered. The power and might of the United States government appeared to be on full display, but Rob knew some deals would be made, some asses covered, and the headhunters would be selective. The threat would be mitigated, not eliminated.

Lying here in the dark on a mountain ridge in Mexico almost a year later, he no longer harbored questions about how much was show and how much was go.

Clearly, powerful and vindictive persons had survived the purge and were still at work.

At the time, though, lying in a hospital bed and receiving an update filled with action and promise of action had been a huge relief.

Kaitlyn had jumped him for not letting the trained soldiers working for Ultimate Solutions handle things, but he had every intention of letting the proper authorities handle this clusterfuck! There was no upside to further involvement.

Kaitlyn was an attentive, sweet, and loving roommate, and for four days she slept on her little rollaway without complaint. She only left to eat with the kids, to bathe, and to get clean clothes. The nurses liked and appreciated her so much they gave her a locker in their dressing room and a key to get in.

Their appreciation increased as I healed and became more impatient about my status; Kaitlyn could calm the surely soul.

She hovered, she checked my wounds, she listened to every word the doctor said and asked question if she needed clarification, and she sat beside me and talked for hours on end. I don't know that we ever turned the TV on, but we certainly reconnected on many levels and created new understandings.

As my recovery progressed and I was better able to meet the demands of PT, she became less anxious and more playful and teasing. In her words, in her dress, in her actions, the sexy woman I fell in love with reemerged.

Unexpectedly, she left at noon on the fifth day of my stay, with her BFF Clay and a contingent of security personnel. I did turn the TV on then, and surfed the 24-hour news and sports channels. I was bored, lonely, and unenlightened by what I watched, so I took a nap.

She didn't return to the room until nearly six, but I heard her cheery voice chattering with the nurses thirty minutes earlier. After a final burst of nose from the nurses' station, it grew quiet, but she didn't immediately appear in the room, as I had expected.

Clay did; he stuck his head in the door, winked, warned, "Tienes cuidado, compadre!" and walked away chuckling. 'Why is he telling me to be careful?' I wondered; 'security is everywhere'!

I knew the nurses had given her a locker in their dressing room and assumed that was where she had gone after her voice faded. Thirty minutes later, I heard wolf whistles, catcalls, exclamations, and another warning. "No man can resist that! You've got him now, Sister!"

I would have laughed at her when she walked in because it was all so over-the-top, but her appearance took my breath away! She knew which of my buttons to push, and she played them like a maestro plays a piano keyboard.

Hair cascading down in reckless curls to her bare shoulders; smoky eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner making those sparkling blue-green eyes even more entrancing; strappy yellow sandals calling attention to those slender ankles and shapely legs; and the bracelets on both wrists calling attention to the slender, graceful arms above.

The form-fitting yellow mini dress, though... yellow lace over a thin yellow liner, bare to mid-back, off the shoulder, with lace covering the swell of her breasts and extending around her arms. The lining ended about mid-thigh, but the lace extended another four inches, hinting at the lush thighs beneath. She was stunning, and I was stunned!

She came around to my "good side," leaned over, and gave me a quick kiss. "I cleaned up a bit and put this little dress on because I've been invited out for dinner tonight at eight, but I decided we had enough time for the little conversation you've been avoiding before he picks me up."

When I continued to stare without speaking, she put her hand on her hip and asked, "Surely you remember the conversation we need to have, don't you?"

I heard something in the hall and tore my eyes away from the vision in yellow; there were three nurses peeping in.

"I'm over here, Rob!" she said impatiently, but I caught the wink to them when I turned back; they scurried off giggling.

Standing just out of my reach, saucy smile playing around those pouty rose-colored lips, she looked entirely scrumptious. I reached out my hand, but she took a step back to the armchair and, in a most ladylike manner, took a seat and crossed her lovely legs.

She leaned forward to give me a nice look at her boobies, saw the tent I'd made of the sheet, and teasingly asked, "Cat got your tongue, RR?"

Fighting to regain a degree of self-control and needing to stall until I recovered, I asked, "What 'conversation' are you referring to, Kaitlyn?"

She rolled her eyes to the heavens, affected a look of exasperation, and answered, "You know, the one where you decide whether I'm a part of your life, or I need to look elsewhere."

"That should be a quick conversation," I replied with a mystified look. "I've already admitted I never stopped loving you; you told me that you and the kids were homeless and dependent on my generosity, and I moved all of you into my house. We go places and do things together daily.

"What more assurance do you need?" I asked innocently.

Her legs uncrossed rather dramatically, giving me a nice shot up the yellow dress, and her knees drifted apart when her feet settled.

"Hmmm. If I remember correctly, the afternoon before the kidnappings and shooting, you imposed a new rule: that we wouldn't sleep together or make love again until you had time to think things through, and then you would let me know what your plans are. Figure them out yet?"

"Come here," I said quietly but forcefully, before scooting over to the left and patting the bed on my right side.

She shook her head from side to side in an exaggerated manner. "No! I want you to make your mind up without lust being a factor!"

I laughed at that! She appeared affronted so I explained. "It's a bit too late for that! You come in here looking like a movie star dressed for the red carpet. You taunt me with that dazzling dress and your incomparable body, give me a boob and leg show, and then claim you don't want lust to influence me? Ha!

"Then why aren't you dressed in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt? Not that you don't look great in those too, but come on! You and I both know you came here to 'shock and awe' me, and you did a great job!

"Now, come over here and lay on the bed beside me. I promise not to rape you, or do anything you don't want me to. I have things to tell you."

There was large degree of skepticism, but she honored my request after I again swore I wouldn't start anything sexual.