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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.”
