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Chapter 14
The port of Houston was a hub of activity and commerce. It was crowded with ships, containers, and dockworkers. With little effort, the drug smugglers blended in. Illegal cargo into the country was routine and very profitable.
Almanza Villareal was more important than the rest of the gangsters. He had talents that the others lacked. Deadly in their own right, any one of them had killed, often too many times to count. Moving drugs into the country was big business, and anyone in the way was dealt with accordingly.
At the age of forty, Almanza garnered much respect. The boss gave him special assignments, and he could be counted on to see each one through. Some marveled that he’d lived as long as he had. An assassin’s life was dangerous.
Almanza took pride that his face was displayed on the most-wanted list by American authorities. He was sought after, and feared yet respected. And that stood for something. Yet the approval he most cared about was that of the cartel boss.
To lose that approval meant certain death. Long ago, Almanza had made his choice to kill rather than be killed. He’d garnered a reputation and was known only by his first name—no more was needed. To speak the name Almanza was to acknowledge a man who was fearless.
His victims didn’t know in advance that Almanza was coming for them. He didn’t announce his presence, as staying hidden was vital to achieving his aims. The death blow he dealt was swift and effective, the way it should be.
Almanza had entered Houston via the port. It was convenient to travel on one of the ships utilized by the cartel. He appeared to be part of the ship’s crew, a Hispanic who looked like many others. No one would pick him out of a crowd.
If another described him, it would be to say that he looked like a farmer. His bland, unsmiling demeanor disguised his real nature. Under the guise of normalcy, his vile intent was buried.
Almanza came across as a poorly educated, hardworking family man. He was certain of this, because he purposely led others to believe that was the kind of man he was. It was a believable ruse, and even those on the cartel ship didn’t know his true identity.
It was safer that way. Rumors of his kills had spread throughout the cartels. Yet rarely could any man claim to have seen him. Only the boss could make contact, deliver orders, and lay eyes on the notorious assassin. Those circumstances had elevated his escapades to legendary status.
Almanza saw to his duties at the dock, working beside his shipmates. And when he determined the way was clear, he simply disappeared. He had a new target, an American, and needed to prepare.
Almanza went to a recently acquired house in Third Ward, a temporary place for him to stay. The crime-ridden area was avoided by any but the most dedicated gangs, thus his arrival went unnoticed. He was just one more gang member among many.
He knew how to behave, and understood the mentality of the neighborhood. Any threat against him could be easily dealt with, although it would be a distraction. So he made a point to avoid interaction.
It didn’t take long to settle in, considering that he didn’t have any luggage. The one bag he carried contained weapons. He stowed them with care, as was his habit. In case some hapless person stumbled into the dilapidated house, he couldn’t take a chance of his weapons being stolen.
Ocean travel was wearying, so Almanza stretched out on the bare mattress. He needed food, but preferred to go out after dark. He would plan out his new mission as soon as he had all the details. His thoughts went to his most recent kill.
It hadn’t been much of a challenge, but disappearing the traitor had been momentarily satisfying. Killing outsiders or enemies was commonly called disappearing the person. He didn’t know why murder wasn’t a more appropriate label. It was the real nature of the deed. So Almanza didn’t see that it should be called anything else.
He hadn’t kept a tally of such deeds, since it was all in the line of duty. The kills numbered in the dozens, yet he had no remorse. He didn’t recall names or faces, just the location where each victim had been terminated. The reason for taking the life hadn’t varied. It was enough that the person was a threat, even a minor one.
Outsiders were in peril from the start, and members of other cartels who crossed into protected territory didn’t live long. Anyone who dissented, even so much as to disagree with the boss, was gone without comment.
Many of those situations were handled by other gang members. Almanza’s skills weren’t required for every person who was targeted. He was assigned to the more difficult high-profile targets.
In the organization, Almanza was a lugarteniente, a lieutenant or plaza boss. It meant that he had the status of an enforcer, and as such, he made sure that members quickly learned the rules or were violently dealt with.
Responsibilities and operating procedures were communicated informally, with no written rules or guidelines, since many members were illiterate and lacked formal education. But it didn’t take long for them to catch on. It was uncanny how quickly they learned when the penalties were so final.
His duties as an enforcer had been limited, because his special assignments became more frequent. When the order to kill came through, Almanza took it seriously. He hadn’t failed a mission, and that made the boss happy.
Almanza had been selected for a few sensitive assignments, including the killing of a customs official, and even a consulate director, plus, a couple of times, political officials. No person was considered beyond the reach of the cartel.
He belonged to a branch of the cartel called Le Sicarii. It derived from the Latin word sicarius, a murderer. The mention of the name inspired fear, even in those who didn’t know the full meaning of the title. Almanza had done much to enhance that image.
As darkness filled the room, Almanza looked forward to what was ahead: another target, a kill to add to the list.
Omar Zapatero was the boss, or jefe to his associates. Other cartels called him Zap. When the name was spoken, it was said with awe and respect. Like a godfather in the mafia, he controlled the activities of his organization, and had held his position for as long as Almanza could recall.
Many thousands of lives had been taken under the direction of Zap. His authority wasn’t questioned. Almanza had come up through the ranks during the boss’s tenure. From small-time gang member to revered assassin, Almanza had taken orders from Zap.
The boss was the one man Almanza thought highly of, since he lacked family or any other close connections. As a child growing up in rural Mexico, he had once had a family. But when Almanza had been a young boy, his mother, father, and older sister had been wiped out in a gang war.
He hadn’t loved them, so didn’t miss them. He felt no regret over the loss. The cartel was his life, and his duty within the organization was all. Having been raised under the protection of Le Sicarii, it was the only life he’d known.
