Moscow Machination

“So, the Japanese government decided to throw a bone to the unemployed factory workers… by giving them the technology and permits to manufacture synthetic coke.”

“Ughh. Is that even possible? I mean to make cocaine synthetically?”

“They are the Japanese. They can do anything when not wanking off to tentacles.”

“Fair enough, but what about… umm… taste… if five Latinos aren’t wasted per pound, I can’t really appreciate the product… I guess I am a purist… I mean I am not… but there are people in DC who are…”

Jim Borland reassured her, “The Yakuza forced their way into the distribution. So it may not be five guys per lb., them being efficient and all, but maybe a leg or an arm per pound.”

“Seems pretty radical.”

“That’s right, radical is what the Japs have become. After thirty years of economic stagnation… I guess they just don’t give a fuck.”

Chapter 22

Laguna Beach, Greater Tijuana Area

Fifty year old Ramon Estrada sat by the pool at a motel, as a bunch of unsavory ladies paddled about. He tried to relax despite the circumstances. The last 24hrs had been catastrophic. He had had to hide his assets and abandon Mehico.

Senor Estrada was the head of the 9^th largest cartel in Mehico. Unlike the big guns he prided himself in being a boutique operator. His business had almost zero violence, certified Six Sigma. His clientele were eclectic. He abhorred the word Drug Lord and imagined himself as a mere facilitator… a lowly consiglieri… a mid-level manager.

Unlike the big dawgs in his industry, he never got into turf wars or even attempted to gain territory. In fact under his leadership his cartel had slipped from the 7^th to 9^th by volume. Under normal circumstances, he would have been chopped up and fed to iguanas at the San Diego Zoo. Instead, Senor Estrada had been commended.

Senor Estrada unlike other cartel heads, was special man. He was a different man. Senor Estrada was the head of the Federale Cartel. Federale as in the Mehican FBI… yep, that Federale. After growing tired of protecting the cartels and earning pennies on the dollar, the Mehican Federale had decided to float its own outfit… the eponymous Federale Cartel.

Within eighteen months since its inception, the Federale Cartel had literally out gunned the other dawgs and risen to become the 4^th largest cartel in peninsular Mehico. They had also gained control of the lucrative Mehico City, which had once been free for all.

Better equipped, better connected and still joined at the hip to the Federale, the Federale Cartel had soon threatened the Big 3. A few skirmishes had resulted in devastation for the big 3. The heroin addled foot soldiers had been blown away by the DARPA equipped Federale Cartel. The writing was on the wall… the Federale Cartel would easily decimate every other cartel in a matter of months.

The remaining cartels had displayed righteous fury and accused the Federale of nepotism. They had then got a couple of DC lobbyists to pressure the Mehican government to rein in the Federale Cartel. Plus, being the 4^th largest cartel also brought unnecessary media attention from networks that needed hit pieces to stuff the void between celebrity butt implants.

Eventually under DEA pressure, the Mehican government, realizing the ‘error of its ways’ had lashed out at the Federale and accused it of racketeering, laundering and threatened it with outright disbandment. The Federale after realizing its own ‘error of its ways’ and apparent conflict of interest, spun off their brainchild into an autonomous outfit, whereby the Federale Cartel would stop competing with the traditional cartels.

As a peace offering the Federale Cartel’s operations were drastically reduced and limited to a few safe niches. These included city officials, public officials, the army, police and mid-level bureaucrats. The target demographic was anyone with a steady job and an ounce of dignity. The new Federale Cartel went for the sweet spot.

Despite the spinoff and assurances, the other cartels had become paranoid, particularly the Sinaloas and Zeta Zoneses.

Thus, when the train with the dragon tattoo came crashing down with five hundred tons of synthetic cocaine, the cartels assumed that the Federale Cartel had played them and were now procuring cocaine from the Chinese. Apparently ‘Made in China’ made a lot of things.

The Zeta Zones were initially suspected of procuring this shipment. But then Zeta’s head had offered seven of his finest bitches to the Sinaloa to prove the Zeta’s innocence. “Free bitches? Jesus H Christ. The Zetas ARE innocent… amigos,” the Sinaloa Weekly had proclaimed.