Page 79 of Mafia Star

It means a trip to New Mexico. There are only three legal crossings to Mexico from that state, and they’re all in Chihuahua. That doesn’t mean there aren’t several other crossings. Enrique likes New Mexico because it isn’t as obvious as California or Texas, or even as obvious as Arizona. Border Patrol’s still a pain in the ass, but they’re nowhere near as aggressive as in the other three states.

Papa glances toward the door then meets my gaze.

“Are you going?”

“Yes.”

I don’t want to leave Beth, but she knows I’m going somewhere tonight. She’s as prepared for that as she’s going to be. If I have to be away, then I may as well make the most of it. Luca pulls out his phone and must be sending a text to our pilots. He glances up at me.

“What do you want to do with it once we have it?”

“Drop it back off in China.”

“What?”

At least four voices bark the same word.

“We know the chemicals likely came from China. It was mixed and made in Mexico, and one of the cartels there sold it to Enrique. He’ll lose his product and have the Mexicans still wanting him to pay the outstanding half. We give it to the Triad, and they can sell it a second time. Except now they have a complete product.”

“I’m not handling that shit.”

Gabriele crosses his arms. This shit is so lethal that looking at it could kill you. I don’t blame him.

“None of us are going near it. We are going near the Mexicans and Colombians running it across the border. We are going to borrow Alejandro’s new plane and his pilot. They’ll fly it to China. If something happens along the way, and they don’t make it all the way to China, oh well. It can wind up with the Triad— and they can owe us a favor —or the bottom of the Pacific. Either way, the Diazes don’t have their shit. The only thing I’d feel guilty about are the fish it would kill.”

Carmine grins.

“This might just kill Alejandro.”

The guy wouldn’t fly commercial if it was the only way out of hell. With all the trips he now makes back and forth to Colombia, he’s very particular about customizing his personal jet. He recently lost one— I grin back at my cousin —so he’ll be extra sensitive about losing his replacement.

Alejandro might not be our primary target, but what hurts one, hurts them all. Tres J’s are the ones who head up the Colombian Cartel’s narco-trafficking. This will put a serious dent in their business. Not only will the product be gone, but they’ll have problems with their Mexican partners. Considering Mexico produces its own ingredients for carfentanil, they don’t technically need the Diazes as middlemen to get chemicals from China to make the shit. And the Diazes could just import the chemicals to the U.S. and have it made here. But this kind of triangular trade is better business.

Luca looks up from his phone.

“Okay. Our guys can be gassed up and ready in an hour. How do we want to handle Alejandro’s jet?”

Carmine gets out his phone.

“I still have someone who can get it out of the hangar for us, but we need their pilot.”

I watch as he puts his phone to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.

“Benny, it’s me. We need his new jet… Yeah, I know. I paid you well last time. I’ll pay you even better this time… I don’t give a shit what your plans are with your girlfriend. It’s my money or my bullet. Which do you prefer? ... Uh-huh. I figured. What’s the pilot’s name? Do you have an address for him? Or could you get it?”

Carmine goes quiet for a moment but switches the call to speaker as he taps on his phone. He must be pulling up his encrypted notes app. I listen as his guy rambles off a name and address for the pilot.

“Great. Thanks. Have it ready to go in an hour.”

“An hour? It’ll take me that long just to get to the airfield.”

“No, Benny. It won’t. You’ll fucking sprout wings if you have to. I said an hour.”

We can have a little wiggle room on this, but he doesn’t need to know that. One of our pilots and a few of our guys will make sure the plane makes it to New Mexico. After that, we don’t give a shit what happens to the plane once Alejandro’s pilot is behind the yoke. We’ll make sure the pilot is all strapped in and convinced not to make any detours. If he gets a whiff of something from a small leak, then too bad.

Even if he crashes in the U.S., it wouldn’t be horrible. The plane is registered to Alejandro since even we can’t totally circumvent the FAA. A plane goes down full of the most dangerous drug in the world, and it’s obvious it belongs to the Diazes is just like Christmas in July for us.

Uncle Salvatore looks over at Luca.

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