CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
2000- The Hand-Off
‘Brón pulled into a parking spot and turned his music down. He then asked me to go into the glove compartment and get his BlackBerry out. I handed it to him.
Cabrón typed out a brief message. Six minutes later he received a response.
I looked at the digital clock on the dashboard- 2:15am.
We waited in silence, ‘Brón type, type, typing away.
I didn’t really understand why he and Mundo used corporate-style BlackBerrys. Most kids doing street business were chained to their Nextels and Skytels. BlackBerrys seemed a bit excessive to me. But back then, I had no idea what encryption was, or why it would be necessary for anyone involved in a multi-level international drug ring, especially one with extensive side-trips into other illegal ventures. Which was obviously what I’d gotten myself caught up in. It was way past the point of my holding onto the fantasy that Mundo and his crew were flipping dime bags of weed outside the spot. I wasn’t even able to fool myself into thinking Cabrón was little more than Mundo’s sullen, unsophisticated side-kick.
At 2:45am, a guy in a hardhat and coveralls approached the driver’s side of the car. Brón rolled down his window and handed the guy the leather portfolio that Hopeton had given him. In exchange, the port worker gave Cabrón a file folder, thick with paperwork.
I had never in my life seen street hustlers handle this amount of paperwork. It was crazy! I felt like I was on a date with a Morgan Stanley stock analyst.
“So, we good?” ‘Brón asked.
“All good,” the port worker replied. “It’s all straightened out now. Just send your truck over around 2 tomorrow to pick up the shipment.”
They shook hands and wished each other Happy New Year.
‘Brón rolled up his window and put the car into drive.
