Chapter 6 - The Freezing of the Mountain Concessions
The Northstar Freight main terminal in Santa Catarina was normally a chaotic hub of activity, with seventy-foot trailers moving continuously toward the northern border. But that Friday afternoon, the yard was entirely silent. Twenty federal asset forfeiture trucks sat parked across the main exit lanes, their blue lights flashing against the gray gravel.
Santiago stood on the loading dock, flanked by Inspector Palacios and the federal receiver appointed by the court. Down in the yard, the company's regional managers stood in a quiet group, their clipboards held tight against their chests as federal agents placed official tax seizure seals across the doors of the main office block.
"The company’s operating license has been officially suspended under the emergency national security provisions," the receiver said, signing the transfer log and handing a copy to Santiago. "Don Arturo attempted to execute a secondary transfer of the vehicle titles to a shell company in Texas two hours ago, but the automated border alert system blocked the registration. He’s completely out of options."
A black sedan pulled into the yard, its tires crunching sharply over the ice. The rear door opened, and Doña Rebeca stepped out, accompanied by two private security guards who looked highly uncomfortable under the gaze of the federal agents. She had discarded her silk robes for a dark wool coat, but her head was still held high, her eyes flashing with a desperate, aristocratic fury.
"Santiago!" she shouted, walking toward the loading dock despite the federal agent who stepped forward to block her path. "Stop this madness immediately! The workers... the families... you’re destroying the livelihood of three hundred people just to prove a point to your father and me!"
Santiago walked to the edge of the dock, looking down at her from the four-foot platform. "The workers are being taken care of, Mother. The federal receiver has already authorized the release of the emergency payroll using the escrow funds we recovered from the Swiss accounts this morning. The only livelihood being destroyed today is yours."
"You are an ungrateful wretch!" she hissed, her voice rising until it carried across the quiet yard to the gathered truck drivers. "We gave you everything! The best schools, the family name, the connections that allowed you to enter the officer corps! And you throw it all away for a girl from Veracruz who didn't even know how to dress for a dinner party in San Pedro!"
Santiago did not answer her with anger. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his military field radio, pressing the channel button. "Team 2, this is Command. Execute the secondary warrant at the residence."
Rebeca’s face went completely still. "What secondary warrant? The lawyers said the house was protected by a civil injunction."
"The house was protected against a corporate debt seizure, Mother," Santiago said, stepping down from the dock via the iron stairs. "It wasn't protected against a federal search warrant for cultural property smuggling. Inspector Palacios found the inventory logs for the pre-Columbian artifacts your father kept in the library safe. The ones he bought from the illegal excavations in Chiapas ten years ago to use as collateral for his offshore currency accounts."
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Through the radio speaker, a clear voice responded: “Command, this is Team 2. The entry is complete. The artifacts have been secured, and the primary occupants are being loaded into the transport vehicles now.”
Doña Rebeca sank down against the side of her black sedan, her gloved hand catching the door handle to keep from falling onto the dirty gravel. The cold wind from the mountains swept across her face, messing up her perfect hair for the second time that week, but this time, there were no neighbors around to watch her fall.
