Miami, FL
2007
“You’re
much better than he is,” she said, rubbing his chest.
Victor Alvarez sat up and swung his feet over the side of
the bed. He looked over at her. She was laying there naked and sweating from
their second lovemaking session of the evening.
Her long, dark brown hair just barely covered her exposed breasts.
“We’ve got time for one more,” she said as she sat up and
kissed his neck.
Victor rubbed is hands through his jet black hair. These
women always seemed to get so clingy.
“What time will he be home?”
“It’s Thursday night.
Jay goes to the track on Thursday nights,” she said as she caressed his
back.
“There will be more time for us later,” he said as he
turned to kiss her. She grabbed his face
and kissed him sensually.
“When are we going to run away together like you
promised? I’ve already started talking
to divorce lawyers,” she said. Her brown
eyes were deep with concern. He had been
working her for the past two months.
“Soon, my love,” he said, kissing her forehead, “but for
now, I should go so as not to make a scene when he returns.”
Victor stood, grabbing his pants and shirt from the foot
of the bed. The woman crawled out of bed
behind him. He took a moment to take in
her toned body and caramel skin. He
loved this job so much.
“Give me a moment and I’ll walk you out,” she said as she
grabbed wrapped her robe around her.
Victor smiled as he continued putting on his
clothes. As she walked into the
bathroom, he slowly eased toward the dresser.
Next to it sat a dirty clothes bin.
When she was safely out of view, he carefully searched the drawers. Nothing. He looked into the dirty clothes and found a
pair of men’s slacks. He picked them up
and dug through the pockets, pulling out two pieces of paper.
Victor glanced back to the bathroom as he opened the two
crumpled pieces of paper. The first was
an ATM receipt. Nothing unusual - just a
one hundred dollar transfer. The second
was a betting slip for the Flagler Greyhound Track in Miami.
Victor smiled as he stuffed the papers back in the pants
and then put them back into the clothes bin.
He had what he needed.
*****
“Rubio says this guy is ten grand in the hole,” the man
said as he sat next to Alvarez. It was
Jose Herrera, his most trusted asset in Miami.
Jose was a native of Miami. His
parents had set their roots in Hialeah in the late sixties after fleeing Cuba,
and although he didn’t officially work for the Cuban DGI, he was very much on
their payrolls.
The Dirección General de Inteligencia was the main state
intelligence agency of Cuba. Since
opening for business in late 1961, the DGI had been involved in intelligence
and espionage operations across the globe.
They had been involved in aiding leftist revolutionary movements in
Africa, the Middle East, and mostly Latin America. In the United States, the DGI had been
heavily involved with international drug trade, assisting homegrown terrorist
cells, and intelligence gathering operations for third party countries.
“Total?” Alvarez asked as he watched the greyhounds speed
by on the track. He was wearing a white
button down shirt and straw fedora with khaki slacks.
“This month,” Jose replied.
Alvarez put down his binoculars and looked at Jose. He had been using them to search for his
target in the opposite stands. He knew
the man would be there. It was Thursday
night, after all.
“Rubio must appreciate that,” Victor replied. Juan Rubio was one of the most vicious
bookies in South Florida. He was known
for extracting money from his clients at any cost and with his ties to the Latin
Kings gang, he was immune from retribution or prosecution. No one dared to cross him.
“He already owes Rubio five grand,” Jose said, lowering
his voice, “he’s giving this guy just enough rope to hang himself.”
Alvarez chuckled as he went back to his binoculars. He scanned the crowd in the stands across
from them looking for his target.
“So he has the same plan we do,” Victor said as he
watched the man wearing shorts and a blue polo shirt. It was Special Agent Jay Leon, the new agent
assigned to the Foreign Intelligence/Espionage desk of the Miami Field Office
of the FBI.
Jose shrugged, “Do you want me to talk to him, boss?”
“See how much money it will take to buy him out,” Alvarez
responded. “I’m going to have a chat
with our new friend.”
*****
Victor Alvarez waited patiently in the dark corner of the
VIP room of the club. Strip clubs were
ideal for meetings like this, especially the VIP room. The loud music and dark rooms made it harder
for people to eavesdrop. People rarely
paid attention to anything but the girls, and no one gave a second glance to
suspicious activity.
But Victor’s target had no idea they were meeting. His presence in the corner of the little
strip club was the culmination of months of work spent selecting the target,
working his way in, and finding his leverage.
A mid-level agent in the DGI, Victor Alvarez had spent
his entire career working South Florida.
He had served his country through building a network of intelligence
assets throughout the local community.
If a foreign country had an operation in Miami, he was their man. He was proud of the work he had done and was
known as one of the agency’s most effective operatives, especially when it came
to developing assets in government organizations. His superiors were always impressed at how he
managed to turn even the most difficult targets into productive intelligence
assets.
Special Agent Jay Leon was a project Victor’s own
government had given him. They had
control of most of the local police departments, but their presence with the
local feds was minimalist at best. They
only had low level analysts who could feed them information if they happened
upon it. They needed someone with a
hand in it. The man would be their eyes
and ears, and if necessary, divert attention from whatever operations they were
working.
So when Victor learned that the Foreign Intelligence desk
of the FBI was going to a new transfer originally from the area, he knew he
would have his opportunity. Leon’s
father still lived in Cuba. He could be
used as leverage if necessary, Victor had thought.
It hadn’t been necessary.
Victor worked it the best way he knew how – in the bedroom. He watched Leon and his wife over the course of
several weeks. They had no kids. She was a bored housewife following her husband
from assignment to assignment. He could
work with that.
And he did. Over and over again. He promised her adventure and
excitement. He promised her a new life
and a romantic getaway. It was all a
lie, of course, but it had gotten him close enough to get the information he
needed. He didn’t feel bad. She could do better than Leon anyway. Leon apparently had a gambling problem, and
judging by his frequent trips to the establishment Victor was sitting in, a fidelity
problem as well.
Victor sat back as he watched a stripper guide Leon up
the stairs and onto one of the couches.
She kissed his cheek and walked away, promising that his girl would be
up shortly.
Leon looked around for a second, and then began to unzip
his pants.
“Keep your pants on,” Alvarez said from the corner.
Startled, Leon jumped up, holding his pants.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded. “Where’s Candy?”
“Prostitution is illegal in Florida, Mr. Leon,” Alvarez
said smoothly.
“I said who the fuck are you?” Leon demanded, zipping his
pants. “How do you know my name?”
“I know everything about you, Special Agent Leon. Please sit down. Let’s chat.”
Alvarez sat patiently as Leon approached. “That’s right, asshole. Special Agent. Now tell me what the fuck you’re doing here
before I arrest you.”
“If you want to continue being ‘Special Agent’ Leon, I
suggest you sit down, please,” Alvarez said.
“Does the Bureau know about your gambling problem?”
Leon stopped in his tracks as Alvarez tossed a set of
large photo prints on the table in front of him. “Look familiar?” Alvarez asked.
Leon picked up the pictures and studied them. They were pictures of him sitting in the
stands at the track.
“So what?” Leon asked indignantly. “Are you trying to blackmail me? Going to the track isn’t illegal.”
Alvarez said nothing as he tossed two more pictures on
the table. In them, Leon was giving cash
to Rubio.
“So tell on me, I don’t fucking care. They’ll slap me on the wrist and make me get
counseling. Big deal.” Leon was playing it off pretty well. Alvarez had to give it to him.
“I understand,” Alvarez said as he tossed two more
pictures on the table. This time, the
pictures were black and white and of him with a naked woman on top. “That doesn’t look like your wife.”
“I’m sure that bitch is cheating on me anyway, and you
can’t prove this is illegal,” Leon replied, tossing the pictures back at
Alvarez. “Now if you’ll get the fuck out
of here, I’ve got an appointment.”
Alvarez smiled as Leon mentioned his cheating wife. If he
only knew.
“About that gambling thing,” Alvarez said, pulling a
piece of paper out of his pocket. “Ten
thousand dollars in the hole this month.
Ten thousand last month. Five
thousand dollar debt to Juan Rubio at 60% interest. Twenty one hundred dollars left to your
name. I don’t think Mr. Rubio or his
associates will accept Gamblers Anonymous as payment, Agent Leon.”
Leon stumbled back and sat back down on the couch. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“My name is Victor,” Alvarez responded. “And I would like to make all your problems
go away.”
“I’m listening,” Leon said, cautiously leaning forward.
Alvarez tossed a black duffle bag to Leon’s feet. He waited as Leon unzipped the top and pulled
out a stack of neatly packaged $100 bills.
“There’s one hundred thousand dollars in cash in that
bag, Agent Leon,” Alvarez said as he sat back and crossed his legs. “You can use that to pay off your debt to Mr.
Rubio. After that, you are done with
that track. You will then receive ten
thousand dollars per month. All cash, of
course.”
“In exchange for what? Why would you do this?” Leon
asked, thumbing through the bills.
“Friendship.”
“Friendship?”
Alvarez stood and extended his hand to Leon. “I would like your friendship, Special
Agent. That is all.”
Leon stared at the outstretched hand. He considered it for a moment, and then
grabbed Victor’s hand, shaking it as he stood.
Alvarez seemed to tower over the short little man.
“To friendship,” Leon said with a crooked smile.
“You’ve made the right choice,” Alvarez responded,
patting Leon on the shoulder with his free hand.
