Chapter 12 - The Unexpected Visitor
In the stark, fluorescent-lit visitation booth, Raúl sat down and picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver. On the other side of the scratched Plexiglas glass sat a man he had never seen before—wearing an expensive bespoke charcoal suit, a diamond-encrusted gold watch, and a chilling, predatory smile.
"Who are you?" Raúl asked, his voice shaking. "Are you from the company?"
"Let's just say I am an interested party," the man replied smoothly, his voice low and cultured. "My name is Don Lorenzo. I represent the private logistics syndicate that your mother’s little offshore shell company was originally supposed to channel those federal funds through."
Raúl’s throat went bone dry. "Syndicate? I... I don't know what you're talking about. We just wanted to frame my wife so we could keep the house."
Don Lorenzo chuckled—a dry, humorless sound that echoed like cracking ice. "Oh, Raúl, you truly are a small-town amateur playing in a major-league game. Do you honestly think a corporate embezzlement ring involving half a million pesos operates in a vacuum? Your mother thought she was being clever setting up those accounts in Michoacán. But those accounts weren't just yours. They belonged to my organization."
"We didn't mean to interfere with your business!" Raúl stammered, panic gripping his chest. "Take the money! Take whatever is left!"
"The money is gone, Raúl. Frozen by the federal prosecutor," Don Lorenzo leaned closer to the glass, his eyes narrowing to cold slits. "Which means someone has to pay the debt. And since your mother is too old to be of any use in a labor camp, and you are the genius who signed your name to the digital transfer logs... you are going to settle the balance."
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"How? I'm going to prison for eight years!"
"Prisons have walls, Raúl," Lorenzo whispered softly. "And accidents happen inside them all the time. Unless, of course, you find a way to get your hands on Mariana Torres's corporate security master keys before your arraignment next Tuesday."
