On the way to the prison where Rafael Caro Quintero ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ was serving his sentence—
“Ramos is heading to the U.S. himself?”
“Yes. He left this morning.”
“Hmm.”
“He said he’s eting the DEA director. Apparently, it’s his first ti eting the director in person.”
“The director himself? You don’t think the DEA caught a whiff of sothing, do you?”
Manager Ma paused for a mont before answering.
“Even if they did, would it really be a problem? They might even see Ramos being inside the committee as a way to maintain control over it.”
“Still... it bothers that the director is stepping in personally.”
“Should I look into it?”
“No. Ramos will handle it.”
If he can’t even manage what’s been entrusted to him, then that’s the end of it anyway.
By the ti I finished speaking, the car had already arrived at the prison.
“Welco. I’m Carlos Hernandez, warden of Prison No. 3.”
“So you’re the warden. Nice to et you.”
“I received instructions from above. I heard you wanted to et Rafa.”
A deep sigh escaped Warden Carlos’s lips.
“Seems like he’s not an easy man for you to handle either.”
“There have always been privileges for VIPs inside prisons. It’s practically an unspoken rule that cartel bosses and politicians get access to special facilities.”
“I see.”
“But Rafa has gone too far. He built his own building and lives there alone. Even the guards take bribes and cater to him.”
The mont the higher-ups promised Rafa special treatnt, the warden and guards lost any real authority over him.
All they could do was offer hollow consolation.
“That must be difficult. But eting him won’t be a problem, right?”
“No. I’ve already inford him. I’ll escort you myself.”
I nodded and gave Manager Ma a look.
He pulled out an envelope and handed it to the warden.
“Treat your staff to a al.”
“Thank you.”
Carlos accepted it without hesitation. The ease with which he did so made it clear—there was no discomfort, no resistance to taking money.
“Then, this way please.”
We entered the prison.
The first thing that caught my eye was an old concrete building.
“This place looks pretty old.”
“It is. It’s been over 30 years since it was built.”
“Most of the inmates are cartel mbers, I assu?”
“About half.”
Beyond the barbed wire, inmates were gathered in groups on the yard. The sight was oddly striking.
“Do incidents happen often inside?”
“Of course. How could they not? It’s rare, but even murders happen sotis.”
“And how do you deal with that?”
“Deal with it? We just settle it internally.”
He said it casually, but it was shocking. Even murder gets buried just to avoid noise.
Seeing my reaction, the warden added quietly,
“More important than our position is the agreents between the cartels.”
“I see. So they usually settle things.”
“That’s right. Otherwise, every prison would turn into a battlefield.”
Fair enough. Cartels even send people inside intentionally to maintain influence. The power struggle must be brutal.
We passed the old building and moved deeper inside.
A cleaner structure appeared.
“Here?”
“No. These are VIP quarters. High-ranking cartel bosses stay here.”
“It looks clean.”
“It’s even better inside. Regularly maintained.”
Past that building, there was a small hill.
And on top of it stood sothing completely out of place for a prison—a two-story structure painted in bright red and yellow.
“...That?”
“Yes.”
“That’s really part of the prison?”
Even from afar, the vivid colors stood out.
We walked up the slope.
Not once did I see a guard.
“No guards stationed here?”
“No. They only co twice a day to check headcount.”
“So he’s the king of this prison.”
The warden gave a bitter smile.
At the top stood a high wall and a steel gate.
Carlos signaled toward the CCTV, and the gate soon opened. Two n stepped out.
“Warden Carlos.”
“Luis. The guest I ntioned is here.”
Luis looked over.
“He’s waiting inside. Will you be joining us, Warden?”
“No. My job ends here. Call when you’re done.”
“Yes. Boss Rafa also asked to et you later.”
“Tell him I will.”
After a brief exchange, the warden turned to .
“I’ll be in my office. Call when you’re finished.”
“Thank you.”
As he left, Luis gestured.
“This way.”
We passed through the heavy gate.
Up close, the building looked even more solid. Rough concrete and red brick, decorated with traditional xican patterns.
The first floor had no windows—likely for security.
I looked up.
On the second-floor balcony, holding a glass, Rafa was watching .
Our eyes t.
He smiled and waved.
“Let’s go inside.”
At Luis’s urging, I stepped in.
‘Crazy bastard.’
The interior was entirely red. Luxurious—far too extravagant for a detention facility.
We climbed to the second floor.
“Please go in. Before that, may we check your belongings?”
I nodded.
After the inspection, the doors opened.
The mont I stepped in, Rafa greeted .
“Welco, Charlie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Word travels even here, I see.”
“I hear you’re trying to unite the cartels into a single organization.”
He knew quite a bit.
“You must have a lot of eyes and ears outside.”
“Well, I used to be a major force in xico. Not anymore, but still.”
He shrugged casually and held out his hand.
I shook it.
“I’m Charlie. I ca at the request of the U.S. governnt to resolve the cartel issue.”
“Oh? More capable than I thought. Didn’t expect the U.S. to send an Asian instead of one of their own.”
“....”
“Have a seat. Let offer you a drink.”
He brought out tequila.
“Have you tried tequila?”
“A few tis.”
“Then let’s have one.”
He poured three glasses.
Manager Ma refused his.
Rafa studied him briefly, then laughed.
“Fine. Just one drink then.”
He drank in the traditional way.
I drank it straight.
It burned—stronger than anything I’d had before. Easily over 50 proof.
“Oh! Down in one go? First ti I’ve seen that outside South Arica. Those refined Arican businessn couldn’t even finish it.”
So he did it on purpose.
I set the glass down and went straight to the point.
“Now that we’ve had the welco drink, let’s talk.”
Rafa refilled his glass.
“So why et a washed-up man like ? Want to join your little committee?”
“Would you?”
His tone instantly turned cold.
“I’d never do what that bastard Amado Carrillo Fuentes is doing. If that’s what you ca for, you’d better be ready to die.”
The mask dropped. Only hostility remained.
I smiled slightly.
“I’m not interested in a washed-up prisoner anyway.”
“What?”
I cut him off.
“I ca for one reason. I need the weakness you have on the xican governnt.”
“What...?”
“Let’s not play gas. I know you have evidence that the Institutional Revolutionary Party ordered the killing of a DEA agent—Enrique Camarena. I’ll buy it. At a high price.”
“Ha. Buy it?”
“Yes. Any price.”
I watched him closely.
“That’s my lifeline. You’re basically asking for my life.”
“I’ll get you out of here—if you hand it over.”
“What? That’s possible?”
“I won’t confront the xican governnt head-on. But I can get you out one way or another. That part’s on —call it a bonus.”
He snorted and downed another shot.
“You think I’m stuck here because I can’t leave?”
“No. If you wanted, you could escape anyti.”
“And you call that an offer?”
I smirked.
“You’re afraid of the U.S. That’s what I’ll handle. In return, you give the evidence—and sothing extra.”
Rafa stared, stunned.
“You can stop the U.S. from tracking ?”
“I ca here at the request of the U.S. governnt. Do you think I lack that kind of authority? With that evidence, they won’t care about you anymore.”
Ramos said negotiation with Rafa was impossible.
Only two outcos—death or extradition.
But I kept pushing.
“Still don’t believe ?”
“....”
Cartels fear one thing above all else—not rivals, not xico, but the United States.
“Unofficially, I established this committee with approval from the DEA and the U.S. governnt. That’s why even stubborn bosses like Amado joined.”
Rafa muttered,
“...You can really make the U.S. ignore ?”
“I can relocate you. Give you a safe haven abroad. All of it—if you hand over the evidence and we settle on a price.”
He thought for a mont.
Then shook his head.
“No. I’ll stay here.”
“Unexpected.”
I looked straight into his eyes.
‘This guy... sothing’s off.’
If the evidence really existed, there was no reason for him to refuse.
Leaving xico and living safely would be too good to pass up.
Which ant—
Either the evidence wasn’t real...
Or he was hiding sothing far more important.
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