Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch1

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Chapter 1

Nicolas Mora remembered vividly the first time he stole anything. He was twelve years old, and his family had traveled to Ixtapa to visit friends. The Mora family usually spent two or three weekends every summer visiting old friends in Ixtapa.

He had gone out one evening with a group of boys and no real plans, just to roam the streets and watch the tourists. It was spring break and Ixtapa was packed with American youth.

They had come across two American girls who were wandering the streets together, dressed in clubbing clothes. The girls were a bit tipsy, but not ready to call it a night. Their own funds must have run short, as they were stopping various boys, offering to make out with them in exchange for alcohol.

They found two willing young American men and slipped into a side street to commence the exchange. Nicolas and his friends slunk after the four teens, keeping to the shadows.

The Americans stopped near the back door of one of the clubs. The girls placed their small handbags on the lid of a garbage can and paired off with the two boys.

“Nicolas, I dare you to go steal one of those purses.”

“What?” Nicolas scowled. “No.”

“Chicken.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then do it.”

“Fine, I will.”

One of the boys gave Nicolas a push, and he slipped from their hiding place, behind some boxes. He padded forward, watching the two couples warily. It seemed to him a sort of duel was underway—the boys’ hands roaming, pressing every advantage in an effort to expand the scope of what was permissible while the girls attempted to contain and constrain the boys’ wandering hands, striving to maintain a boundary, but without doing anything that might cause the boys to get upset and renege on the deal.

There had been a certain thrill to it, he recalled, an excitement. A heightened sense of alertness as he approached. Expecting at any moment to be seen, devising and adjusting an escape plan with each step. It seemed he could feel every irregularity, every pebble through the soles of his shoes. His nostrils were assaulted by the alley’s lingering scents of teenage sweat, stale urine, cheap perfume and cheaper alcohol.

He focused his ears on the sounds of the couples, listening for any indication the semi-amorous engagement was breaking. He ignored the muffled cacophony of dance music, drifting and mingling from various nearby clubs. His skin prickled in the hot, humid night air as he crept closer.

The ‘duel’ kept the two couples sufficiently occupied for Nicolas to tiptoe to the garbage can unnoticed. He gripped both handbags, lifted them carefully, then turned and retreated as rapidly as he could while keeping his footfalls silent. He returned to his friends, holding up the evidence of his bravado for all to see.

At that time, Nicolas concluded either the girls had a different definition of ‘not enough money,’ or they were lying. Between the two handbags, the boys collected just under a hundred American dollars. That was more money than his father made in a month!

In addition to the thrill he experienced, he had felt a twinge of guilt back then. He had almost felt sorry for the two girls—had worried about how losing the contents of their bags had affected them.

But no longer. Now, at age seventeen, he felt contempt for the Americans as he walked along the street, looking for an easy target. They were spoiled brats who came to Mexico, flaunted their money, partied in the streets with no regard for the locals, and left behind a mass of debris; cans, bottles and plastic bags. Misplaced shirts, pants and sandals. The side streets reeked of refuse and vomit.

The Americans were disgusting pigs. They were also easy money for a few days every year.

It was easier now he and his friends were old enough to take jobs. The four of them would be hired as part-time help with the local shops. Gaspar’s father owned a small shop near the beach, which gave them an ‘in.’ They would deliver supplies, organize inventory, and sweep sidewalks during the day, which would accustom the police to seeing them and lower their suspicion.

Of course, the police weren’t the only concern. Spring break was lucrative for the Templario cartel, through money they skimmed from the legitimate businesses as well as what they acquired through the sale of illicit drugs and prostitution. They also utilized spring break as an opportunity to find new channels for drug distribution in the United States. The Templarios had a vested interest in ensuring theft and violent crime were absent in the areas the spring breakers visited, and more than a few rumors circulated of petty criminals being beaten to death or beheaded.

Nicolas and his friends were very careful. They worked together to select only a few targets each year. They had become familiar enough with clothing brands to be able to profile for wealth, and they prioritized middle-class females, which was the sweet spot for higher probability of a decent amount of cash, and lower probability of raising an alarm. Younger high school girls were particularly good targets, since they were typically there on Daddy’s money and therefore didn’t feel the loss personally. Also, since they were usually using fake IDs to get alcohol, and to get into clubs, they were even less inclined to report anything.

Nicolas coordinated the activities of his friends as they identified potential targets, and then took turns tailing them. He’d work out a strategy to make the grab, his friends would execute the plan, and they’d split the loot. They’d limit themselves to six or seven targets a year total. They weren’t getting rich by any means, but a week’s work could net them the equivalent of several months’ salary.

And there was still the thrill of it. Even greater now than the first time. The hunting, the planning, the dynamic, fluid nature of the plans, as the people and environment shifted and changed. On the fly adaptation to maintain stealth, to outwit the police, and the victims. Nicolas loved the rush far more than the money.

Nicolas was currently following an especially promising target. She was a high school senior from Scottsdale, Arizona, here with a half-dozen girlfriends. Gaspar had discovered her the previous afternoon, talking loudly to attract attention to herself, and flashing large quantities of cash to impress her friends.

Gaspar had followed them to their hotel and waited for them, but when they came back out that evening, they weren’t carrying their beach bags. Most likely they had their cash—and fake IDs—in the pockets of their denim shorts.

Nicolas had picked them up this morning as they left the hotel dressed in bikinis, their beach bags once again in tow. The one girl definitely stood out from the others. She was loud, she spoke over the other girls, and her voice was gratingly nasal. Her daddy had to be loaded. Money was the only reason Nicolas could think of for the other girls to put up with her. They were nearly clear of the shops leading to the beach when Nicolas pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.

“Sí,” came the voice of Javier.

“Photoshoot.” Nicolas spoke softly. “They’re heading right to you. Maybe three more minutes and you’ll see them.”

“Sí,” Javier responded. Nicolas tapped the button to end the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket.

It was a well-rehearsed strategy. Javier and Oscar would ‘bump into’ the girls. Javier would be very charming and would offer to take a photo of the girls together. They would accept the offer immediately because such girls were vain, and always wanted their picture taken. Oscar would hold their bags for them while Javier took several pictures. Nicolas would then slip next to Oscar while the girls were distracted and extract the handbag from the target’s beach bag. He would move on while Javier finished his photoshoot, effusively complimenting the girls on their beauty. Oscar would return the bags, and the two young men would say their goodbyes and slip away. The girls were already past the shops, so an impulse purchase was unlikely, and there weren’t many reasons to pull their money out on the beach, so they probably wouldn’t notice anything missing for several minutes, if not hours, and several more encounters.

Nicolas slowed his pace, widening the gap between himself and the girls, giving sufficient room to allow Javier and Oscar to set the trap as he approached.

“Buenos dias, señoritas!” Javier’s voice carried as he engaged the girls. Nicolas paused briefly in front of a shop, examining a small bauble with feigned interest. He strained his ears, listening to the giggling of the girls, as Javier engaged them with his flattery.

Javier—by far the most charismatic of the four—was usually the one to do the approaches. He was trim and well groomed, with a perfectly proportioned face, and his complexion was the lightest of the boys, allowing him to blend in with the American teens, yet still dark enough to appear exotic, intriguing. He stood nearly a head higher than the other three, who were all close to the same height and build, Gaspar being the shortest by one or two centimeters.

Gaspar was the best of the four at finding targets. Gaspar’s slightly diminutive stature and appearance gave him the ability to go unnoticed by the party-going teens. He had just a hint of roundness in his face and midsection, giving him a cute little-brother vibe. His complexion was also the darkest, his features displaying his Aztec heritage. The sum effect was, he was just interesting enough to not be shunned, but not so interesting as to attract attention. The perfect shadow. He would find the marks, then leave the rest to the other three.

“Oh yes, please, let me take your picture for you. My amigo can hold your bags.” That was Nicolas’s cue. He returned the bauble to its place and continued his stroll toward the group. He ran a hand through his wavy, dark hair, careful not to fix his gaze on Oscar as he approached.

Ironically Oscar, whose toned, muscular physique made him the perfect candidate to attract girls, was uncomfortably awkward around them. He stood with the half-dozen bags on his arms, and an expression that might be irritation, or boredom. His eyes were focused intently on a rock near his feet.

“Oh yeah, that’s nice.” Javier encouraged the girls as they struck various poses. “Very sexy.”

Nicolas casually scanned the area as he approached Oscar. He stiffened, his heart jumping. He forced himself to remain expressionless, and he continued forward, undeterred.

“Abort,” Nicolas murmured to Oscar as he passed by, not stopping. Oscar’s eyes flashed up briefly, then returned to the rock.

“Que pasa?” Oscar’s lips barely moved.

“Policía,” Nicolas replied, glancing again to the three policemen unobtrusively watching the exchange. He continued past Oscar and sauntered down the street, throwing a curious glance at the posing, giggling girls before rounding a corner and melting into the crowd.

“That was very smooth.” A baritone voice next to Nicolas startled him. He quickly regained his composure as he turned an innocent, confused face toward the voice. A middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a disarming smile was walking next to him.

“I’m sorry?” Nicolas asked, his brow furrowed.

“The way you handled that—the way you adapted—that was very smooth.” The man gave a half-nod. “Very impressive.”

Nicolas shook his head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You and I need to talk.” The man’s gaze lingered on Nicolas’s face for a moment. “Please, follow me.”

Two burly men seemed to appear out of thin air from the crowd, one on either side, and slightly behind Nicolas. Nicolas’s throat tightened. These had to be Templarios. He swallowed against the wave of fear welling up inside him. Glancing around quickly, he looked for an escape route. A giant heavy hand closed on his shoulder.

“Don’t try it.” A gruff voice spoke quietly in his ear.

Nicolas glanced back to his friends. The policemen were questioning them.

“Oh, my apologies.” The man spoke, observing Nicolas. “You, of course, are concerned for your associates. We can wait until the police are done with them.”

The police were searching the two boys fruitlessly, with increasing frustration. Finally, after several more minutes of interrogation, the police threw their hands up in surrender and sent the two young men away.

“Ah, all is well, then.” The man smiled. “Now, back to our business, if you please.”

The man continued up the street, and Nicolas followed at the prompting of the two men flanking him. They continued through the streets for a few minutes more, until they were clear of the crowds of raucous teenagers.

As they walked toward an SUV bearing the Mercedes logo, a man exited from the driver’s seat and walked around the vehicle to open the rear door for the man, who slid into the seat, then beckoned to Nicolas.

“Please join me,” the man said it as though it was a polite invitation. A glance at the ever-present thugs barring his escape made it clear the invitation could not be refused. Nicolas let out a sigh as he climbed onto the seat next to the man.

“What is your name, young man?”

Nicolas hesitated. Should he give a fake name? Something in the man’s eyes suggested he already knew. Nicolas’s shoulders slumped.

“Nicolas,” he replied, “Nicolas Mora.”

“Nicolas,” the man repeated, “pleasure to meet you. I am Luis Arroya. I oversee the interests of the Templarios in Ixtapa.”

Nicolas swallowed hard. He had already guessed these men were Templarios, but hearing it confirmed was more than unsettling.

“You see …” Luis turned his gaze to the city, “… Ixtapa is important to the Templarios. The value it generates is quite high. Its value comes from the many visitors it receives. The more, the better. Visitors come here because they feel safe.”

Luis focused once again on Nicolas, his eyes narrowing as his expression hardened.

“Crime, even petty crimes, erode that sense of safety. So, you see, the Templarios take crime in Ixtapa very seriously.” Luis’s expression softened once more as he returned his attention to the window. “Usually, in a case like this, we simply collect the offenders, and …” he paused ominously, “… make them disappear.”

Nicolas shifted in his seat, his eyes darting, frantically searching for a way to escape.

“Your case is an exception.” Luis’s genial smile returned. “You are a very sharp young man, very observant and organized.”

“You know, we intended to have you and your friends arrested, and come talk to you in your jail cell. But you,” Luis chuckled softly and wagged his finger, “you saw the trap and cleverly wriggled out of it.”

Luis leaned over, placing a hand on Nicolas’s knee. “To be truthful, it was a chance stroke of luck that we even became aware of you. Talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted, Nicolas, which is why we want to recruit you.”

Nicolas stared down at his lap, his brows knitted as he chewed his lower lip.

“What will I have to do?” Nicolas looked up.

“Oh, various tasks: deliver messages and packages, coordinate activities of small groups. In time, you might be groomed for a leadership position in the organization. As I said, talent like yours should not be wasted.”

“If I refuse?”

“Well.” Luis shrugged. “If that is your choice, that is your choice I suppose. Naturally, you and your friends’ activities will no longer be permitted.”

“They have to join also?”

“You are welcome to invite them, but no, they are not required. You and they may continue your present activities unmolested, as long as you work for us, and so long as they continue to be unobtrusive and restricted.”

Nicolas stared down at the floor again.

“If we had been arrested, and I refused, what would have happened?”

Luis grinned. “You would have remained in jail to serve your sentence.”

The two sat in silence for a minute, as Nicolas mulled the offer over.

“You don’t have to decide right now. Take some time to consider, discuss it with your friends if you wish.”

As if on some prearranged cue, one of the men guarding the vehicle opened the door, then stood aside to allow Nicolas to exit.

“Here, take these.” Luis extended his hand to Nicolas, offering him a small booklet and a cell phone. “The book is the code of the Templarios. You should read it, make sure you understand it. Breaking the code is punishable by death.”

Nicolas examined the booklet. It was small, only a dozen pages, and could easily fit in his pocket. The cover was decorated with knights on horseback, each with a lance at the ready, and a cross in their free hand.

Luis gestured to the phone. “I’ll call you in a week to discuss your decision.”

Nicolas took the book and phone and slid out of the vehicle. The driver and the other two men entered the SUV, then the engine purred to life, and the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

Nicolas stood still, watching until the SUV was out of sight. He stared down at the phone in his hand for another minute, then slipped it into his pocket. He removed his own phone and dialed Oscar’s number.

“Hello?” Oscar’s voice was tentative.

“It’s me.”

Oscar breathed out explosively. “Where are you, man? Is everything okay? We were going to call you when we couldn’t find you, but we didn’t know if you were caught, or on the run, or hiding or something.”

“I’m fine, meet me at the shop. We need to talk.”

“We’ll be there in five minutes.”

Nicolas ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket. He mulled the conversation over as he walked. How had they found out? He and his friends had been so careful. What had they missed?

Would Luis really let him refuse and just walk away?

What kinds of ‘various activities’ would he be expected to do? Petty theft was one thing, but what if they wanted him to smuggle drugs? Or kill someone? Nicolas shuddered at that thought.

He’d seen some guys he knew were Templarios once. They had money. Lots of it. The things he could do for his family—new clothes, new cars, as much food as they could eat ….

The others were already at the shop when Nicolas arrived, watching him closely as he approached, looking for any indication that a trap might be set for them. This was the first time they had been caught––almost been caught. They were understandably on edge.

“What’s up, man?” Javier questioned, “Did the police grab you?”

Nicolas shook his head. “Templarios.”

Eyes widened in surprise, and Gaspar swore under his breath.

“Templarios? Are you sure?” Oscar frowned. “How’d you get away?”

“They let me go.”

“What?” Gaspar raised his brows. “Why?”

“They want me to work for them. They gave me a week to consider it. They said you guys could come too. If we say no, we gotta shut down our operation.”

Oscar snorted. “Do you believe them? That they will let us say no, I mean.”

“I don’t know, I think so. You guys at least, I’m pretty sure you can say no. Not so sure they’ll let me walk away.”

“Whatever you decide, man.” Oscar gripped Nicolas’s shoulder. “I got your back.”

“Whoa.” Gaspar shook his head. “I don’t know, man, I mean, stealing a little cash from stupid gringas is one thing, but you’re talking big time here. Career criminal stuff.”

“Yeah,” Nicolas affirmed. “It could be bad stuff. Might be good money too. They do have a code of conduct, so maybe not so bad.”

“Really?” Oscar raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I read through it on my way here. They talk about the European Knights Templar a lot, like, it used to be their code or something. You swear to help the poor and fight against materialism, and to never kill for money. You gotta be respectful to women and children and protect the helpless.”

“That doesn’t sound bad,” Javier said, “in fact, that all sounds really good.”

“Oh, and you can’t use drugs.”

“What?” Gaspar leaned forward. “Don’t they sell drugs?”

“I think so.” Nicolas furrowed his brow. “I guess I don’t know for sure, but the book says they will test you for drug use, and if they catch you …” Nicolas drew a finger across his throat.

“If we can walk away from it, I think we should.” Gaspar spoke resolutely.

“Easy choice for you,” Javier huffed. “You got money. You do this stuff for the thrill. Me? My father can’t work, and my mother only gets a few pesos a week doing odd jobs. The cash we get from spring break helps feed my family. No offense, man.”

“No.” Gaspar sighed. “I get it.”

“We got a week to think it over,” Nicolas reminded the others. “Maybe longer for you guys. And we don’t all have to give the same answer.”

The four boys stood together silently, staring at the ground.

“Well, today’s done,” Nicolas finally spoke. He inclined his head toward Gaspar. “We should go see if your dad needs any help.”