I’m nodding. “Says here he’s married… With a newborn.” I frown.
That could be a problem. In certain situations, a family can be good leverage. But this particular job requires afulldedication of time, especially now, in the early stages.
“A few of them are,” Fabian hums. “You think it’ll be a problem?”
I shrug. “We’re just getting this thing off the ground… I’d prefer them to be unattached. At least for the first year or so.” I flip to the next page. Then the next. “It’s one thing if they’re looking for an excuse to get away, but I doubt that’s the case for someone with a new baby at home.”
“I can find out.” Fabian jots down some notes. “Pedroia is our best. Max says he’s risen in the ranks quickly due to his ruthlessness. Not a fan of nonsense, that one…”
“So I’ve heard,” I mutter, checking out his file.
“His connections are great. Family history goes back in Medellin, and Bogota…”
His words are sort of fading out. Because I already know all of this, and this process is already tedious.And we just fucking started.
Page after page of faces, names, and bios… Viable candidates, all of them. I know these guys. They’re all mid-level lieutenants working for me in Medellin. Andyes, they’re great at what they do.
But in this particular case, I need more than just good at running for the cartel and not getting caught. It’s a fine skill set, just… not quite right forthisjob.
Could these men be correctional officers?
Aspects of it are similar, sure. Overseeing port activity, managing dealers… Intimidation and such.
But being a prison guard is more hands-on than they’re used to. On the island, I’ll require much more than just full-time work… This is a lifestyle change. A residency.
The term that comes to mind isblind subservience. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week…you get the idea.
“Here’s my concern…” I slap the binder shut with a huff. “This could be considered a demotion for a lot of these guys. Even if the pay were the same, which it won’t be, it’s going to be more work. Like,a lotmore. And different.”
Fabian nods. “Could we go to the guys a level down?”
I shake my head vehemently. “I need to trust them fully. I need to know without a shred of doubt that they’ll keep their mouths shut.” I pause. “Or that even if they wanted to open them, it wouldn’t matter…”
He stares at me for a second. “What if we made sure they’re properly… motivated?”
I purse my lips. Because that’s not a bad idea…
But I shake it off. “They’re just too unpredictable. Half of them are wild cards as it is. Plus, these guards will be working directly under me. Not only do they need to stay motivated, but they need to be self-sufficient. And smart. Jesus, if I were stuck dealing with the capos every day, I’d blow my brains out.”
Puffing out a breath, I stand up, pacing over to the window. I watch the city bustling below me, considering what I need. What it is I’m looking for…
The perfect guard dog.
Loyal. Hungry, but chained.
“Sounds to me like you need someone to help you out with that part,” Fabian speaks from behind me.
I peer over my shoulder, lifting a brow. “Yea, no shit.”
He chuckles. “I mean, maybe you should find your head of operations first. Then have him help you keep the others in line. Basically the same infrastructure as Medellin, but guys who are designed for this.”
That’s a thought…
“Bringing in strangers?” I make a face. “That never works out.”
“I say again… If they’re properly motivated…” He shrugs, making a face that would be impossible not to read.
I’m mulling this over as one of my three phones buzzes in my pocket; a message from one of the guys in Brooklyn. Eyes scanning the text, my jaw strains and I fight not to roll them.
