Chapter 6 - THE JUDGE IN EXILEThe old railway depot in Ameca looked like a ghost town frozen in time. Rusted railcars sat half-submerged in overgrown weeds, and the corrugated tin roof of the main warehouse rattled violently in the rising mountain wind.
Teresa’s battered Ford limped into the loading bay, steam hissing from its cracked radiator.
A figure stepped out from the shadows of the depot porch, holding a weathered umbrella and wearing a worn canvas field jacket. It was Esteban Garza. His hair was completely gray now, and lines carved deep into his face spoke of years spent hiding from powerful enemies, but his eyes were as sharp as surgical steel.
He opened the passenger door before Teresa could even kill the engine.
"You're late, Teresa," Garza said, his voice deep and raspy. "And you brought a small army of corporate mercenaries behind you."
"They were waiting at Kilometer 34," Teresa said, stepping out of the truck with her pistol still gripped firmly in her hand. "Rodrigo has every toll booth and state trooper in Jalisco on his payroll."
Garza glanced at Valeria, who was climbing out of the passenger side with a bruised face and bleeding knuckles. The former judge’s eyes darkened with a cold, suppressed fury.
"Alcázar," Garza muttered, spitting into the gravel. "The boy thinks his father's money makes him immune to federal indictment. He forgot that some of us spent our entire lives waiting for proof strong enough to crack his foundation."
Garza pulled a heavy iron key from his pocket and unlocked a rusted padlock on the depot sliding door.
"Inside. Quick. My satellite uplink is set up in the station master's office. If we push this data straight to the Special Prosecutor for Organized Crime in Mexico City before their signal jammers find us, Rodrigo won't have enough lawyers in the country to keep him out of Altiplano prison."
They rushed inside the dark, cavernous warehouse.
At the far end, illuminated by a single battery-powered desk lamp, sat an old laptop wired to a heavy satellite dish poking through a broken skylight.
Valeria immediately pulled the metal USB drive from her pocket and handed it to Garza.
"It's all there," Valeria said, her voice steady now. "Every bribe, every shell company, every transfer from the battered women's foundation straight to his offshore accounts in the Caymans."
Garza slotted the drive into the laptop. A series of green diagnostic lines began to scroll across the screen.
"Decryption key accepted," the monitor flashed.
Garza’s fingers flew across the keyboard, routing the packets through an encrypted proxy network straight to the Attorney General's secure server.
Progress bar: 10%... 45%... 80%...
Suddenly, the single desk lamp flickered and died.
The heavy iron doors of the depot behind them groaned.
May you like
Thud.
Someone had just dropped a heavy explosive charge against the exterior lock.
