Chapter 7: The Trap
1126 Words
The Ministry hearing was set for the following Thursday.
In theory, it would be a formal review of the alleged “compliance violations” on Emilio’s project.
In reality, Jorge knew it would be a stage—one Mendez planned to control down to the last curtain drop.
They had less than a week to prepare.
---
Jorge’s office became a war room. The walls were lined with permit copies, supply invoices, safety inspection reports—everything they could gather to prove Emilio’s project was clean. Emilio sat across the desk, his eyes hollow from stress.
“Even if we present this,” Emilio said, tapping a stack of documents, “Mendez can still claim the inspectors were bribed, or the paperwork falsified.”
“Which is why we’re not going to rely solely on paperwork,” Jorge replied. “We need witnesses—people from the Ministry who can attest that the inspections were legitimate and unpressured.”
Emilio raised a brow. “And who exactly is going to risk crossing Mendez?”
“That,” Jorge said, leaning back in his chair, “is where strategy comes in.”
---
The next morning, Jorge paid a visit to the Ministry’s central building.
He wasn’t there to see Mendez—at least, not directly.
Instead, he sought out a mid-level compliance officer named Arturo Ramos, a man Jorge knew from a prior case. Ramos was cautious, a career bureaucrat who kept his head down, but he had one flaw—he hated being used as a scapegoat.
When Jorge found him in the cafeteria, Ramos was stirring coffee, his eyes darting around nervously.
“I heard about the shutdown,” Ramos said under his breath. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’ll be quick,” Jorge assured him. “I need you to testify that the last inspection of Emilio’s project was clean, no safety violations, no missing permits.”
Ramos let out a dry laugh. “You think I’m suicidal? Mendez will have my career in a blender before I finish my first sentence.”
“Unless,” Jorge said quietly, “you testify anonymously—through a sworn affidavit. I’ll file it under protective witness provisions. Mendez won’t know until it’s too late to silence you.”
Ramos hesitated, then shook his head. “Too risky. He has eyes everywhere.”
---
When Jorge returned to his office, Emilio was pacing. “I got a call,” Emilio said grimly. “From a supplier I’ve worked with for ten years. They’re pulling out of our contract. No explanation.”
“That’s Mendez cutting off your resources,” Jorge muttered. “He’s trying to choke the project financially so it collapses before the hearing.”
Emilio’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, his expression shifting to confusion. “It’s from the Ministry. They’re… inviting me to a private meeting with Mendez. Tonight. He says it’s a chance to ‘resolve matters amicably.’”
Jorge’s brow furrowed. “That’s a trap.”
“Maybe he’s willing to negotiate,” Emilio suggested, though his tone lacked conviction.
“Mendez doesn’t negotiate unless he’s already won,” Jorge said flatly. “If you go alone, he’ll corner you. He’ll get you to admit to something—anything—that he can use against you.”
---
But Emilio’s pride was raw, and the thought of looking Mendez in the eye had its own pull. “What if I record the conversation?” he asked.
“That could work,” Jorge admitted, “but it’s risky. He’ll be careful with his words, and if he catches you recording, it could turn ugly fast.”
“I’m tired of hiding,” Emilio said. “He’s tearing my life apart, and I want him to see I’m not afraid.”
Jorge studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine. But I’m coming with you. We’ll make it look like you agreed to meet alone, but I’ll be nearby in case it goes sideways.”
---
The meeting was set for 9 p.m. at a small, upscale restaurant on the outskirts of the city. When Emilio arrived, Mendez was already seated in a private booth, a glass of red wine in hand.
“Señor Rodriguez,” Mendez greeted smoothly, “thank you for coming. I thought it best to speak man to man.”
Emilio sat, forcing himself to meet Mendez’s gaze. “You’ve already said everything you wanted in public.”
“The public is noisy,” Mendez replied with a faint smile. “This is quieter. An opportunity.”
“For what?”
“For you to avoid ruin.”
Mendez leaned in slightly. “Withdraw your name from the project contract. Transfer operational control to a neutral third party—someone I approve of. In exchange, the investigation vanishes. Your accounts are unfrozen. You walk away intact.”
Emilio’s jaw tightened. “You mean hand over my work so you can give it to one of your friends.”
Mendez sipped his wine. “Call it… redistributing opportunity.”
---
Meanwhile, Jorge sat in his car across the street, earpiece in place, listening to the live feed from the tiny recorder Emilio had hidden in his jacket.
But then, something shifted.
The audio crackled, followed by a voice that wasn’t Mendez’s—deep, unfamiliar, and close to the mic.
“You’re being recorded.”
There was a pause, then the sound of a chair scraping back hard.
Jorge’s pulse spiked.
“Señor Rodriguez,” Mendez’s voice came back, now harder, “I advise you to leave before this becomes… unpleasant.”
Emilio’s voice was steady. “I’m not afraid of you.”
A short laugh from Mendez. “Then you’re a fool.”
---
Emilio emerged from the restaurant minutes later, his face pale. He climbed into Jorge’s car without a word.
“Well?” Jorge pressed.
“He knew,” Emilio said finally. “He knew about the recording before I even sat down.”
Jorge exhaled slowly. “Then someone close to us is feeding him information. He’s not just blocking us—he’s inside our circle.”
The implication hung heavy in the air.
If Mendez had an informant watching their every move, the hearing wasn’t just going to be difficult—it was going to be lethal to their case.
---
That night, Jorge pulled out his original list and drew a hard line under item 5.
Then he added a sixth:
6. Find the leak. Eliminate it before the hearing.
Because in six days, they’d be walking into the lion’s den. And if they didn’t plug the hole in their camp, Mendez would be waiting with the teeth already bared.
- Writer
