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In the backseat, Alonzo whispers to me that there are multiple military checkpoints along these roads, and they tend to wave by vehicles driven by women. Somehow, with all the planning and the travel, I still hadn't believed that we'd actually gotten to El Chapo. A.-based assistant had left a manila envelope with my cellphone in it.
In this case, the rain falls hard enough that soldiers have abandoned their posts for cover. Rather than risk being vaporized in a small aircraft by a lightning storm, we opted for the eight-hour drive back to the city where we'd started. I'd imagined us arriving to a gentle apology, that for some unexplained security reason the visit could not take place, and we'd be going home to Los Angeles empty-handed. When we land back on home turf, Kate and I part ways. I turn on the phone to the explosion of a two-day backlog of e-mails and text messages. What I didn't know, and what was not yet being reported, was that from the time the weather cleared, a military siege on Sinaloa was imminent.
We still don't know how many dead in total." When asked about the reports of his own injuries, Chapo responded, "Not like they said.
It's a clandestine horror show for the single most technologically illiterate man left standing. Flash frame: myself and a six-foot, ear-pieced Mexican security operator. It's paradoxical because today's Mexico has, in effect, two presidents.
He notes with delighted disdain several through which his money has been laundered, and who take their own cynical slice of the narco pie."How much money will you make writing this article? I answer that when I do journalism, I take no payment. I consider offering to accompany them, though the circumstances would certainly prove any protective action futile. Despite that, I'm feeling frustrated at having to wait eight days to get him in a corner – to ask everything I think the world wants to know. So I only ask questions one couldn't forget the answers to. We escape its subtle brume, and I join my colleagues inside the bungalow.
I could see that, to him, the idea of doing any kind of work without payment is a fool's game. Before my adrenal rush of paranoia can inspire insult or injury, Chapo has returned. With Kate tucked cozily into bed, his crew and he are fast and furious into body armor, strapping long-barrel weapons and hip-clipped grenades. There are two beds and one couch a short distance from where Kate can be seen sleeping on a third bed behind a privacy divider.
Espinoza and I have traveled many roads together, but none as unpredictable as the one we are now approaching. Whether he's standing in the midst of a slum, a jungle or a battlefield, his idiosyncratic elegance, mischievous smile and self-effacing charm have a way of defusing threat. Finally a respite from the cyber technology that's been sizzling my brain and soul.
Pope Francis blazed a trail and left town two days before. Regis Hotel with my colleague and brother in arms, Espinoza.