Saturday, March 28, 2020

Read The First Chapter Of 'Colombian Betrayal (A Bruce & Smith Thriller Book 1)' by Randall Krzak


Colombian Betrayal by  
Randall Krzak

Colombian Betrayal (A Bruce & Smith Thriller Book 1)


Chapter 1


Medellín, Colombia
Spring 2004


Three armored Chevrolet Suburbans raced through the hacienda’s open gates. Dust billowed in their wake as guards took up defensive positions on top of the high brick and concrete wall facing strategic areas of the driveway. Two unarmored SUVs escorted the procession. One raced ahead to take the lead while the other brought up the rear.
Seventy-year-old Jesús Pedro Zapata and his forty-five-year-old son, Oscar, relaxed in the middle vehicle. The Medellín Country Club’s weekly buffet luncheon drew father, son, and Zapata’s thirty-five-year-old daughter, Olivia, along with numerous local dignitaries and powerful landowners. On this rare occasion, Olivia missed the gathering due to a prior commitment in Panama City, where she and their lawyers sought to close a deal for the purchase of a sugar cane plantation.
As the convoy approached the road leading to the club, they slowed.
Zapata dropped the inner glass partition. “Why are we stopping? We’ll be late.”
“Sorry, Jefe.” The chauffeur pointed through the windshield. “An accident or construction is blocking the way.”
Ahead, yellow lights and trucks emblazoned with Interconexión Eléctrica S.A. blocked the road. A man dressed in white coveralls waved the convoy onto a side street.
The chauffeur stopped again. Additional vehicles impeded progress through the next intersection.
Before the convoy could reverse, more trucks cut off their escape.
Zapata spotted the movement and became suspicious. Hijueputa! Get us out of here! Hurry, before it’s too late!
Men wearing blue coveralls jumped out of the blocking vehicles, aimed anti-tank weapons at the front and rear escort vehicles.
Passersby screamed and ran for any shelter they could find—the nearest trees and vehicles became temporary refuges.
The attackers fired their rocket-propelled grenades, and the escort vehicles soared into the air, plummeting back to earth as burning hulks. One of the SUVs flipped end over end before landing on top of a parked car. Thick, black smoke billowed upward as the stench filled the air. Shrapnel and smoldering pieces of metal from the destroyed vehicles littered the area.
Zapata’s guards returned fire but were overwhelmed by the firepower of the attacking force.

One by one, the defenders succumbed to the withering fire when the remaining escort vehicles and two of the armored SUVs met the same fate. Gunfire waned, while moans from the injured and the crackling of burning vehicles grew in intensity. Random shots echoed throughout the area as the attackers rendered a coup de grâce to the few survivors.

The assailants approached Zapata’s SUV through the thickening smoke. They lined up along the driver’s side and glared at Zapata and his son.
Defiant stares greeted them.
Two men rushed away from the vehicle, shouldered their rocket-propelled grenades, and aimed.
Zapata’s reign died as he and his son were immolated.

* * *
Francisco Tomas Kruz, Zapata’s long-time friend and confidant, replaced the receiver without a word. He rubbed his hand through his dyed black hair as he strolled to the windows and gazed across the mountainous expanse. A smile flickered across his face, not reaching his cold, hazel eyes. At last.
He returned to his desk, lifted the phone, and placed a call. “This is Kruz. Give her the phone.” He spoke for a moment.
Olivia screamed.
* * *

Moreno Hacienda
Barranquilla, Colombia
Present Day

Dawn broke with birds twittering outside Olivia’s country estate. She opened blue-green eyes and focused on the view through the open window. Tinges of red and orange stretched across the horizon, seeking the deep blue heavens. More songbirds joined in, their melodious voices adding to the morning’s chorus. Nearby, a rare Colombian screech owl hooted. Other birds shrieked, their wings beating the air as they scattered.
Olivia yawned and crawled out of bed. Twinges cascaded through her aching muscles caused by overexertion in yesterday’s intense personal security training. Time for some fresh air while it’s quiet. She slipped a purple velvet robe over her slender athletic body and pulled on matching slippers. Padding toward the balcony, she opened the doors and stepped outside. She gazed at the tranquil countryside and smiled.
Craack! Craack!
Bullets ricocheted off the stonework, missing her head by inches. She dropped to the floor amid a hail of flying rubble and dust. Hunched like a hermit crab, Olivia crawled inside and slammed the doors.
Madre de Dios!”
Stomach lurching, chest heaving, she rolled across the floor to the bedside table. Her hands shaking, she grabbed the handle, opened the drawer, and removed her FN Five-SeveN handgun. She fumbled for a second magazine and stuffed it into a pocket on her robe. Keeping out of view, she crept back to the side of the balcony and slid down the wall.

She peered through a small opening, looking for signs of intruders.
Nothing. All seems normal.
Pushing through the doors, she dashed around the corner, squatted, and fired three times without aiming. An incoming round smashed into the wall in front of her. She leaned into the stone for cover as rough-edged shards whirled toward her face. Startled by the fast-approaching slivers, Olivia ducked and dropped the pistol. Blood trickled from a cut above her right eye. She sucked in her breath and wiped it away as anger replaced fear.
Alto.” A man of medium height climbed over the railing from the patio. Piercing dark eyes shone beneath a mop of black hair as he plopped into a chair at the small bistro table, and helped himself to a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Diablo.” Olivia spat the word as the man with the physique of a bodybuilder stood and helped her into the other chair. “Ramon, one day you’ll cause my death. The training becomes more intense every day.” She grabbed his goblet. “Salud.” She drained the glass.
“Doña Olivia, you hired me to provide protection. When I’m not here, you must do this for yourself and your family. Your enemies will give you no warning, which is why the lessons must become more realistic.”
Olivia nodded. “Si, you are correct. I want to live a long time and enjoy my fortune—unlike my father, brother, and first husband, who died before their time.”
Ramon Cristobal Alvarez and Olivia Perfecta Moreno gazed at each other.
Bam! Bam!
Ramon rose. His movements panther-like, he approached the door. He turned the knob in minor increments while the thudding continued.
 “Shhh.” Someone outside the room cautioned and received a snigger in response.
Ramon yanked the door open. Caught off guard, two girls tumbled into the room. Laughing and giggling, they fell into a disheveled stack of limbs. He grabbed an arm of each child and helped them to their feet.
“Ramon, be careful! You’ll wrinkle my pretty dress.” Olivia’s ten-year-old daughter, Maria, stomped her foot and straightened the folds of her pink frock.
“Maria, stop it.” Silvina, her nine-year-old sister, dressed in blue, squirmed out of Ramon’s clutches.
Together, the two girls darted across the Spanish tile, color-coordinated ribbons holding their long hair in place as they melted into Olivia’s embrace for a much-needed hug.
Preferring the clothing of a tomboy, Olivia’s darling, Silvina, fidgeted with her dress.
“Mamá, breakfast is ready. Papá says to come now, or you can’t eat.” Maria delivered the message in a serious tone, before bursting into infectious laughter.
Olivia smiled. “Sí. Let’s not keep Papá waiting.”
Ramon led Olivia and her daughters to the dining room, where Pedro Moreno sat reading a local newspaper. Once Olivia and the girls took their seats, Ramon headed to the kitchen. Breakfast remained a private affair, a chance for parents to interact with their children.
“Good morning, Pedro. Where’s Alonzo?”

“Morning, dear. He called and said he’d be here—”
The door flew open, and Alonzo rushed into the room. Without uttering a word, he heaped a plate with beans, rice, and eggs from the buffet and joined the others. “Sorry I’m late. There was a union issue at the plant.” He glanced at his mother, who gave him a knowing glance. “I must return after breakfast to ensure the problem remains resolved.”
“Don’t forget the party tonight,” Olivia reminded him. “There will be ladies lined up to dance with you.”
“How can I forget? You’ve reminded me every day since the staff hand-delivered the invitations.”
“Only because our family’s survival is at stake.”
Alonzo frowned at his mother. “What if I don’t find a suitable bride this time?”
“You must.”
He sighed. “Sí, Mamá.”
Olivia changed the subject. “Pedro, what are your plans for this morning?”
“I’m going horseback riding when we finish breakfast, and before lunch, Alonzo and I are playing tennis.”
* * *
After breakfast, Pedro strolled from the dining room to the covered porch. Olivia allowed him one Cuban cigar per day, as long as he smoked outside. Before he sat, Ramon appeared.
 “Tonight’s party should be interesting.” Pedro exhaled a column of smoke and glanced up at him. “The mayor, chief of police, and the local military commander are among those attending.”
“Why were they invited?”
“Olivia wants legitimacy. This will be our first party since we moved here. Their attendance will demonstrate we are part of the community’s elite. The wealthy and important will approach us, wanting their daughters to marry Alonzo.”
Ramon nodded. “I understand, Pedro. My men and I will remain in the shadows, available if a situation arises. Please advise if you require anything else. Anything at all.”
Pedro nodded, snuffed out his cigar, and strolled down the steps into the brilliant sunshine. He gazed around their new estate. A palatial mansion on 500 acres, the property boasted a six-stall stable, Olympic-size swimming pool, two all-weather tennis courts, and a helipad. A ten-foot concrete wall stood guard over five acres surrounding the house—home, at least for now.
He waited outside the stable for a saddled horse to be brought to him. This morning, Shadow, an all-black Arabian stallion, became the ride of choice. Pedro mounted and reined the horse toward the stone arch built into the perimeter wall. He put Shadow into a canter and traveled along one of the paths crisscrossing the estate.
* * *
Alonzo and his mother took their coffee to her office. They sat on matching easy chairs in front of her Italian oak desk. The cozy room was once the refuge of the previous owner. Its Brazilian cherrywood floor contrasted with the two walls lined with floor-to-ceiling oak bookcases.

A stack of hardwood in a stone fireplace waited to be ignited when the evening weather turned cool. The outer wall boasted glazed windows, with two sets of French doors opening onto the veranda. A massive portrait of her father seated on a brown quarter horse took center stage on the wall behind the desk.
“What happened at the plant, Alonzo? I thought you could manage without needing my intervention.” Olivia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
 “Mamá, I thought when I finished university, I would run the legitimate businesses and let you know if I needed your help.”
“You shall, but as my eldest, you must also learn about what provides us with real money.”
“My MBA will help me run the shopping malls in Miami and Madrid, the restaurant chains in North America and Europe, and the hotels in the Caribbean. But, I understand nothing about the drug trade.”
“I didn’t either when I first started. Government troops killed your abuelo in Medellín, but before he died, he taught me both sides of the business. Now you must prepare in the event something happens to me.”
“What about Pedro?”
“I married him for love.” Alonzo can’t know the truth—I didn’t really marry for love. I needed to replace his dead father, and Pedro was willing to raise someone else’s son. It’s unfortunate he ill-treated Alonzo when he was growing up. No wonder he hates Pedro. Still, Alonzo does well to cover up his feelings. “He’s useless in our business and wants no part.”
Alonzo frowned. “Sí, Mamá.”
“Tell me what happened at the plant this morning.”
“Two of the guards grabbed a woman, pulled her into the bushes, and raped her. The woman’s husband was unloading a truck when the attack occurred. When he intervened, the guards killed them.” Alonzo’s forehead puckered. “Although I abhor the use of violence, in this instance, we can’t allow this behavior to go unpunished.”
Olivia rubbed her hands through her long, violet-black hair.
“Tomorrow morning, find out the names of the two guards. Have them stripped and tied to poles outside the plant. Let them suffer overnight. The next day, assemble the workers. Make this a lesson to all. Render the same punishment to them as they bestowed upon the couple. This will send a clear warning.”
Alonzo considered her comments for a moment. “Yes, Mamá.” He grimaced. When will she stop treating me like a child?
* * *
Throughout the afternoon, guards searched the arriving trucks as they ferried the necessities for the Morenos’ party. Additional security personnel poked through the flower arrangements, examined tables for hidden objects, and removed fine linens from their protective coverings to ensure nothing had been slipped between the folds.
As the day wore on, cleared caterers appeared, bringing their own special implements for creating sensational regional and local dishes for the buffet. The staggering menu included Valluna cutlets, milanesa, arroz de lisa, mamona, lechona, and tamales. Others brought cases of champagne, whiskey, vodka, and rum. In the corner of the mansion’s ballroom, a twelve-piece orchestra worked through their repertoire, selecting pieces designed to awe their audience.

Everything and everyone was in position by seven thirty in the evening.
Eight p.m. Still no guests. Olivia’s outward calm crumbled, and a frown replaced her smile. She paced back and forth from the entranceway to the ballroom, her grimace deepening with each circuit.
Eight fifteen. A taxi arrived—false alarm, a waiter late for work.
Eight thirty. Pedro strolled toward his over-anxious wife and smiled.
“A long string of fancy cars passed through the perimeter gate. Your guests are sticking to an old-fashioned tradition—arriving late.” He sighed. At last, they’ve arrived—for Olivia’s sake.
“As long as they come, that’s the important thing. For Alonzo. And us.”
Ricardo Natanael Vasco, the current mayor of Barranquilla, his wife, Camila, and daughter, Josephina entered first. Introductions ensued as Olivia, Pedro, and Alonzo created a short reception line. Ricardo and Camila joined them to welcome the rest of the guests.
The chief of police and the local military commander, their spouses and daughters, followed by a cluster of other local dignitaries, crossed the threshold and joined the festivities. The guests’ bodyguards remained outside the house, augmenting those at the front and around the perimeter. By nine, everyone on the invitation list sipped champagne and chatted in small groups while the orchestra provided various classical and modern compositions.
Tall, with a well-toned body, black wavy hair, and chiseled features, Alonzo found himself the center of attention, each beauty vying for recognition. From their actions, every unattached woman hoped he would choose her.
Danced off his feet since he wouldn’t decline any request, Alonzo sought one particular woman whenever possible throughout the evening. Gabriela Sofia, the graceful five-foot-ten-inch daughter of Colonel Bautista Enrique Santiago, military commander of the Atlántico department, captivated him. Chocolate hair with a natural curl fell in elegant locks around her perfectly-formed face and down her shoulders and back. There was a hypnotic quality to her deep brown eyes, framed with thick lashes.
Above the buzz of polite conversation, the clink of crystal, and subdued laughter, the orchestra’s conductor proclaimed the final dance. Alonzo threaded through the tables. Hands grazing his arms, he dodged every grasp and made excuses to young women who tried to engage him in small talk. On the other side of the room, Gabriela stood talking with Josephina.
Señorita, may I have the honor of the last dance?”
Gabriela gave a small curtsy. “Of course, señor. My pleasure.”
Alonzo led her to the center of the dance floor and signaled the orchestra to play. As they danced, other couples joined them. Gabriela snuggled her head on Alonzo’s shoulder, enjoying his closeness.
“May I call upon you next week?”
“You may, but first, you’ll need el coronel’s permission.”
Alonzo laughed, twirling Gabriela in time with the music. “I thought so. Everything is arranged. I took the liberty of speaking with el coronel earlier this evening.”
Cheeks reddening, Gabriela pulled Alonzo closer.
* * *

After the last guest departed, Olivia, Pedro, and Alonzo sauntered onto the veranda for a nightcap. While they sat sipping single malt whiskey, a myriad of night creatures serenaded them.
“So, Alonzo. What do you think about the lovely ladies who visited tonight?” Pedro drained his glass. “Did any stand out?”
“Pedro, it’s not a cattle market,” Alonzo grinned, glancing upwards. “But, one or two caught my attention.”
“Make sure you marry for money and power. Love can wait.”
Olivia rolled her eyes but held her tongue. Sounds like his personal creed. What did I see in him? At least he gave me two beautiful daughters.
Arm in arm, Pedro and Olivia ascended the grand staircase. Midway down the corridor, they kissed and separated, each going to their individual apartments.
After removing her makeup, Olivia shed her clothes and jewelry as she prepared for sleep. Wonder if Gabriela is the right woman for Alonzo? He seemed to enjoy her company more than the others.
She sat at her dressing table, am antique silver hairbrush in her hand. She began her nightly ritual of 100 strokes through her thick hair. It’s so hard to know who to trust. She stared into the mirror, refusing to shed a tear. I must be ruthless—as unforgiving and cold as my father and brother before someone murdered them.
Finished, she climbed into bed and turned out the lights. I hope I get a good night’s sleep.
Olivia tossed and turned for a long time. At last, sleep took her. Two hours into an uneasy slumber, she sensed someone’s presence. Her eyes shot open, searching the darkness for any hint of an intruder. Her hand slid over to the nightstand as a voice distracted her.
“Olivia.” The voice, distant, yet familiar, seemed to come from within.
“Yes, Papá?” Confused, she rubbed her eyes, unsure if she was awake or dreaming.
“You must build new alliances. Our business is suffering. Americans consume less product, and foreign competitors are encroaching upon our territories, stealing our fields and our workers. More security is required—tougher measures. You may not want to go to war, but a storm is on the horizon, my child, and the wind blows ill for those unprepared. Reach out to Días. He will help you.”
The voice faded. Olivia waited, but she remained alone. Did I imagine this? She drifted off to sleep, a smile on her face. She understood her dead father’s edict.
* * *
The following morning, Olivia woke again to the hoot of the owl. She rushed to the balcony to find the bird’s hiding place. Two shots rang out. Following her training, she crashed to the floor and squirmed back into the bedroom.
She grunted and laughed, thinking Ramon had upped the training. A moment later, a loud thump resounded against the door as Ramon forced his way inside, gun drawn.
“Olivia, this isn’t training—it’s real.”
Ramon pushed aside a balcony door. He crawled outside, peeked between ornate pillars, and scanned the area for would-be assassins. After completing his sweep from the balcony, he returned inside.
“They’re gone.” He twirled his right index finger in the air several times. “Stay here. The guards will scour the full perimeter for those seeking to harm you, while I check on Pedro, Alonzo, and the girls.”
Olivia nodded. Shaking, she wrapped her arms around herself.
Ramon walked to the door. Before he opened it—
A gunshot echoed in the corridor.
Madre de Dios!” Ramon leaped toward Olivia, shoving her to the floor with one hand, a weapon in the other.
A high-pitched scream pierced the air, followed by a second.
Silence.

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