Chapter 7: What Rodrigo Knew
I called Fuentes from the car.
"I need everything you can find on Rodrigo Alcázar's business activity in the two years before he died.
Not the family company — personal.
Side ventures, private contracts, anyone he was working with outside of Alcázar Corporation."
"That will take time."
"I know.
Start tonight." I paused.
"And find out who Ernesto Alcázar's friends are.
Not socially.
Professionally.
Anyone he's done business with outside of the official company structure."
"Valeria." Fuentes's voice was careful.
"Santiago came to see you."
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He told me to stop asking about Rodrigo.
He said the people who know what happened are not people I want knowing my name."
A long pause.
"Did he say that as a threat?"
"No.
He said it like a man who is frightened of the same people he was warning me about."
Another pause.
"I'll make some calls."
He called back at eleven that night.
I was still at my desk when my phone lit up with his name.
"Rodrigo Alcázar was not simply a member of his family's company," Fuentes said.
"In the eighteen months before his death, he made contact with a federal financial crimes unit.
Informally.
Through an intermediary."
I set down my pen.
"He was talking to investigators."
"Preliminary conversations only.
Nothing formalized.
But the intermediary confirmed that Rodrigo had indicated he was in possession of documentation related to a money-laundering structure connected to several construction contracts in Nuevo León."
"Connected to whom?"
"The contracts were awarded to a consortium.
Alcázar Corporation was one of three companies named." He paused.
"The other two are linked to a man named Castellano-Vega.
He operates primarily out of Monterrey.
He is not someone who appears in newspapers."
The kind of man who doesn't appear in newspapers.
Santiago's words came back to me.
*The people who know the answer to that question are not people you want knowing your name.*
"Rodrigo was going to expose his own family," I said.
"It appears so.
Whether he intended to include his father and brother in the exposure, or whether he believed he could protect them, I cannot say."
"And then he died."
"And then he died."
I looked at the wall across from my desk.
My grandfather's photograph was there — taken at the company's twenty-fifth anniversary, the year before I was born.
He was laughing at something off-camera.
He looked like a man who believed the world was basically honest.
"Fuentes.
If Rodrigo had documentation — where is it now?"
"That I don't know."
"Renata might know."
Silence.
"Valeria.
If Renata has that documentation, and if the people involved in those contracts know she has it — that is why Santiago married her.
Not sentiment.
Not responsibility." His voice was very quiet.
"Protection.
He married her to keep her close enough to control what she does with what she knows."
I thought about Renata in that ballroom.
Her chin lifted.
*You were never anything more than a solution to a money problem.*
She had said it like she was the one holding the advantage.
Maybe she thought she was.
"She doesn't know she's not safe," I said.
"Probably not."
"If Castellano-Vega's people believe she has Rodrigo's documents—"
"Then her safety depends entirely on Santiago's ability to manage the situation.
And Santiago's ability to manage the situation depends on resources he no longer has." Fuentes let that land.
"Resources he was counting on getting through you."
The plan collapsed in my mind like a building I had been standing inside.
They hadn't just wanted my money to save the company.
They had needed my money and my name and my family's credibility as a shield.
A legitimate alliance that would give the Alcázars enough respectable cover to stay out of reach.
And at the center of all of it was a de@d man who had tried to do the right thing.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
*Ms.
Montemayor.
My name is Inspectora Claudia Bernal.
I believe we have a mutual interest in discussing the Alcázar family.
I would appreciate the opportunity to meet at your earliest convenience.*
I read it three times.
Then I typed back: *Tomorrow morning.
Eight o'clock.
You choose the location.*
May you like
Her reply came in under a minute.
*I already have one in mind.*
