Seven days later, Joaquin, the leader of the Sinoloa drug cartel, sat grim-faced on a chair before the veranda of a manor on the outskirts of Vincent Gray Lake in Mexico, his long legs crossed.
On the table in front of him was a glass of whiskey, and he clutched in his hand a "Queen cigar" that cost over 7,000 US dollars, his entire face shrouded in white smoke.
The cigar was expensive because it was adorned with gold leaf and Swarovski crystals, and it was produced in limited quantities each year, making it quite elusive.
But for someone like Joaquin, money held little significance.
Money, that rotten thing!
One winter, when the firewood had run out, he took a stack of US dollars from the money box in his bedroom and threw them into the fireplace to warm up.
That night, he burned a total of two million dollars.
The house was filled with the smell of money.
But over the past ten days, he had lost no less than 1.2 billion dollars.
For some reason, the once smooth and foolproof drug smuggling network across the border had encountered numerous problems.
And it wasn't just his operation that faced troubles; the top five Mexican drug cartel families were all experiencing issues.
The drug trade in Mexico was currently controlled by five criminal organizations, including his own Sinoloa Cartel, followed by his biggest rival, the Gulf Group, and then the Zeta Group, the Beltran-Leva Group, and the "Templar Knights" drug trafficking group.
Compared to these groups, his own losses were not the greatest. He heard that ten tons of high-grade K carried by Balrot at the border had been seized by the DEA in one fell swoop, and that shipment was reportedly from Colombia, belonging to the ELN forces.
Joaquin was familiar with ELN.
He also had dealings with them.
However, this armed organization hadn't previously been so keen on drug trading, and this was their first big operation, which had unfortunately failed.
Initially, this issue had nothing to do with him; ice drugs were a matter for the Colombian anti-government armed forces.
But lately, major groups had been experiencing problems one after another, and even the newly elected President of Mexico had unleashed the Marine Corps to sweep through several drug warehouses set up by the major groups on the US-Mexico border, including one of his own.
Those warehouses were highly confidential among the major groups.
Only key members would know the specific locations.
This meant that someone had leaked information.
However, after investigating for several days, Joaquin found no traitors among his men.
Just as he was utterly confused, he suddenly received a message from his informers in the United States that Balrot's two capable lieutenants, Brody and his brother Opalini, had been captured.
Connecting this information with the current situation, it seemed as if the mystery was unraveling.
Balrot was the emperor of the Mexican underground smuggling syndicates, controlling the majority of drug smuggling routes to North America, with seventy percent of the border tunnels under his control.
Therefore, the Brody brothers knew the locations of those border warehouses.
He suspected that Balrot's men, unable to withstand interrogation, had leaked information about the five major families, a matter he had to clarify.
Ever since a gang purge last year, Joaquin and the five major families had collaborated with Balrot to turn against the CIA's local agent, Mr. H. Joaquin felt that this was a counterattack from Langley, and it was necessary to meet with representatives of the other four families again, as well as meet with Balrot. Whether to claim compensation was one thing, but they must reorganize the drug trafficking network.
Thus, he personally called the other four major families and Balrot to arrange a meeting here to discuss how to handle this situation.
Additionally, Joaquin invited Balrot for a private matter.
That was to mediate between the ELN forces and Balrot.
After ten tons of high-purity K was swept away by the DEA at the border, Balrot went into hiding, and the leader of the ELN forces, Morins, called him on his cell phone, asking him to use his connections to find Balrot and explain himself.
Since he had introduced this deal to Balrot initially, now that there was trouble, he indeed had the responsibility to have the owner and Balrot sit down and talk.
According to industry rules, losing the cargo during transportation required compensation.
Ten tons of goods were not a small amount.
Joaquin was deep in thought in his chair under the porch about how the meeting would proceed when several black bulletproof Mercedes Gs appeared at the entrance of the estate.
The armed guards stopped the SUVs, carefully inspected them, and then waved them through.
Joaquin squinted through the cigar smoke, staring at the vehicles.
It had not been easy getting representatives from several major families to come to this meeting.
After last year's joint betrayal, suspicions had arisen among them.
Business relationships often bred enemies, and frictions were inevitable.
Especially with the Gulf Group, which had nearly become archenemies.
Joaquin judged that the head of the Gulf Group wouldn't come personally; they feared he might have set a trap for them.
The Mercedes SUVs stopped beside the large fountain in the courtyard, and a lean young man in his thirties got out of one of the cars.
The other vehicles disgorged large, brawny bodyguards, their arms, and even their foreheads covered in tattoos.
"Little Leva!" Joaquin stood from his wicker chair, opened his arms, descended the steps, and greeted the man with a cheek kiss.
This man was one of the brothers who ran the Leva drug trafficking group, Little Leva. His brother was the head of the group, Big Leva.
The Leva Group and the Sinoloa Group had no conflicts, so their relationship was relatively good.
"We haven't seen each other for almost a year; I have really missed you and your brother."
"Mr. Joaquin," said Little Leva politely, "my brother sends his regrets. His affairs are too busy, tying him down, so he couldn't come. He asked me to express his apologies to you."
Joaquin put his arm around Little Leva's shoulder like an old friend meeting after many years, walking him up the steps, and while walking, he said, "I understand your brother's busy. I've heard that some new gangs are causing trouble on your turf, causing chaos. But don't worry, if you need our help, make sure to tell me, and I'll definitely support you fully."
He paused, then continued, "You and your brother must be careful. Those small gangs might not seem powerful now, but if they dare to be so bold, there must be someone backing them. If I'm not mistaken, it's the CIA supporting these scum."
"Indeed," muttered Little Leva, looking half asleep, he sniffled and added, "After we fell out with Mr. H last year, these kinds of problems have been endless. Given all the trouble at the border this time, I think he's behind it. In my opinion, we should try talking to him, and if it doesn't work, so be it."
"You can't say that."
As Joaquin led Little Leva to sit in a wicker chair opposite him, sitting down himself, he said, "Mr. H's backers are the people in Langley. When they controlled drug sales here, they took at least half of the profits for their budget. This past year, since we've banded together, how much has your group's profit increased? Why should we labor while they profit with ease? What does their subversive activity have to do with us? Why should we sell our goods to him at low prices?"
While speaking, Joaquin opened the cigar box in front of him, took out a cigar, and offered it to Little Leva.
"Try this, it's good stuff."
Little Leva looked at the "Danish King" cigar glinting with gold foil and crystal sparkle under the light, smiled, and took it.
"Mr. Joaquin's cigars are never second-rate."
"Little Leva, before the others arrive, I want to discuss a private matter with you. Last time your brother talked about the cooperative deal, I need to delay it on my end."
"Hmm?" Little Leva paused, his cigar-cutting hand suspended in mid-air, "Why is that?"
The cooperation was not about shipping cargo together but about Leva Group wanting to use Joaquin's two large drug submarines to transport a batch of goods to Europe.
"Sigh...," Joaquin leaned back into his wicker chair, continued puffing deeply on his own cigar, and said, "I didn't want this to happen, but recently, things have been unstable. One of my warehouses at the border area was raided by the Marine Corps, and all channels entering North America and Europe were somehow destroyed; our network has become unreliable. Not to mention, Balrot just helped the Colombian Armed Group transport ten tons of cargo that was seized by the DEA right afterward. Ten tons! Just like that, gone. Now the Colombians are furious and pressing me to find Balrot, who has gone into hiding. I wish I had never brokered that deal."
As he spoke, he was somewhat agitated, waving his hands, and the cigar almost flying out of his fingers.